Unexpected
by yutta de apolda
Summary: Sophie, who has been working for the French Resistance, comes across two of the Basterds in a small tavern. She is only asked to take them to a safe place, but events somehow get out of hand and secrets from the past are gradually revealed...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Inglourious Basterds are of course the property of the one and only Mr. Tarantino.

Enjoy also what is my invention.

**1. Surprise**

The child held out her hand and just a moment later Sophie felt little fingers clenching around her wrist with all the strength the little girl found at that moment. All was included in this forceful grip: fear, desperation, uncertainty. There was nothing unusual in them, as Sophie felt most of these emotions each time she was there, in a small, dimly lit basement room of a little tavern on the outskirts of Paris, her contact point for the last 11 months.

The grip on her wrist suddenly increased even more and Sophie squatted down in an instant. She had seen too many strange reactions from people who waited for her in this room to learn to counteract quickly. It was Tuesday evening and normally the tavern was not crowded on weekdays, but still the girl's scream could have been heard upstairs. She could not risk that.

But the girl did not scream, did not even start to cry. Sophie's eyes were almost at same level as two wary brown eyes that seemed almost too big in a small, dirty face with tears and mud both smudged in a strange pattern. She did not even know how old the girl was, but the stare she was receiving was hard and sharp and it definitely did not match the child that was standing in front of her.

'What's your name, darling?', she asked in French.

The girl flinched, but said nothing.

Sophie sighed and smiled encouragingly at the same time, but the girl did not return the smile and was staring at her in silence. Sophie sighed again. _Time to start it properly_.

'My name's Sophie. I will take you to a safe place.'

'How?', the sound that finally came out of the girl's mouth was as sharp as her glances.

'We will get out of here soon. Don't be afraid. But there is something really important you must remember, OK?'

The girl nodded once.

'Now your name is Julie Benoit. You must memorize it before we go out. There might be German soldiers outside asking questions, you must answer them right.'

She watched the girl repeat her new name several times, first with hesitation, but then with some kind of pleasure as if she was exploring a new taste. She even gave a faint smile.

'Listen, we must play family now. It's very important. I am your aunt Sophie, you are my niece. You are 5. My sister Anne married your father Pierre, remember this. Your parents went away and never came back. Please call me auntie.'

The girl nodded again, this time without tension. Sophie smiled again. Not that she expected the girl to remember all of this, but she wanted to give her some background, some cover story to confirm if they were unlucky enough to come across an exceptionally inquisitive German partol.

'Good. Now it is time to clean your face a bit. I refuse walking around with such a dirty niece.'

She took a handkerchief out of her pocket, moistened it under the tap in the corner and started wiping dirt away from the child's face.

'What a beautiful girl is hiding under this black mask', she mused.

'Auntie Sophie?'

'Yes?'

'I'm seven.'

'OK, but if we meet any soldiers, let us pretend you are five. The younger you are, the better. They won't ask too many questions. Especially when you are shy and sleepy. Trust me, that's better.'

'And my name's Sarah.'

'It's a beautiful name, sweetheart, but please don't say it again. You are Julie now', she noticed tears in the girl's eyes and hugged her before they could flow down the little face in uncontrollable streams. The girl clung to her with all her might.

The loud footsteps on the stairs alarmed the child, but Sophie knew them too well to even bother to turn around, as the door open and a bald, middle-aged man entered the basement.

'What's going on, Paul? You must have been running all your way down here', she said in mock horror while stroking the girl's hair.

Paul wiped his forehead.

'Glad you're here today. You must do something before you go out.'

Sophie winced.

'We really must leave soon. It's late. Frank won't wait forever. He will think something's gone wrong.'

'I know, but this is something special. No kidding. Hugo Stiglitz is upstairs'.

'What?!', Sophie turned out so rapidly that the child gave out a muffled sound of protest. Paul laughed.

'I am surprised as well. But you must get him out of here quickly. There are some Kraut soldiers drinking in the corner. They might not have recognized him yet, but it's only a matter of time. They had a really nice conversation about bloody cowards and traitors half an hour ago and Stiglitz's name happened to be mentioned several times. So imagine my surprise when he made a personal appearance shortly after they had decided to change the subject to girls. Perfect timing, I should say.'

'Is he alone?'

'No, there is a man with him in a German officer uniform as well. Suppose he's the other German in the Basterds' squad and luckily this man was the first to enter the room, so probably the Krauts did not manage to watch Stiglitz carefully. But you better get him out of there quickly. I can't really send Marie to do the job. She's too much afraid, she won't do this right.'

'Suppose I'll do?', she asked, wincing again.

'You're a much better actress. And you look really nice in this Nazi-slut disguise', he whispered meaningfully touching her platinum blonde hair and a sleeve of her red velvet dress before he dodged a mock punch. 'But hurry up, sweetie. The Krauts are in the main room under the wall. Stiglitz and his friend are sitting across the room, not so much exposed, but it's enough that one of the shitty soldiers would like to fraternize with officers and they might recognize him.'

Sophie hesitated.

'What?', Paul asked in almost genuine surprise, 'you know what to do. The same good job you did once to lead the Parisian courier out of here safely.'

'I couldn't get rid of him then', she groaned.

'I am sure Hugo will be different', he smiled.

'Unless he shoots me dead outside', she snorted.

'Not a chance. You will be convincing enough.'

'All right', she turned to the door, but was stopped dead in her tracks by a sudden movement behind.

'Don't leave me!', the little girl gave out a yelp and caught her hand.

Paul leaned over the child with an encouraging smile.

'Don't worry, little one. You will join Sophie soon enough. But now you must stay here for a while. It's very important.'

He reached inside his pocket, took a small rag doll out of it and gave it to the girl. She eyed it carefully before accepting the gift.

'It's Claire', he informed the child, 'Will wait with you, OK?'

The girl nodded with hesitation, shifting her gaze to Sophie who mimicked the nod.

'OK, Sophie and me must leave for a while. Stay here, don't make too much noise. And don't worry. I will come and fetch you soon', with these last words he took Sophie's hand and led her towards the stairs only after she managed to send the last reassuring smile to the child. He carefully closed the door behind him and they went upstairs to a large kitchen where an elderly plump woman, Paul's mother and cook, paid them no attention while she was stirring some sauce in a large pot.

Sophie caught Paul's sleeve.

'I hope you're not wrong and it's really him', she whispered.

'My visual memory is great. And if it's not', he smiled mockingly, 'you will get yourself a nice German boyfriend.'

She grimaced, but removed creases from her dress and smoothed down her hair before taking a lipstick out of her sequin purse. Paul watched her in amusement.

'You know, you really should find yourself a boyfriend.'

The faint smile was wiped off her face in an instant.

'I had a boyfriend once', she said, her eyes dark for a while.

Paul touched her shoulder apologetically.

'I'm sorry, babe. I just…'

'I know', she interrupted. 'I must go now or your favourite will be in trouble.'

'Be careful', he said letting her go. 'you can take him to…'

'I know where', she cut in.

'Right. Wait for me. I'll take the girl there as soon as it's safe.'

She went out of the kitchen into the back room that led to the entrance corridor and she gracefully stepped into a large room filled with cigarette smoke and soft music. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Paul's presence behind the counter and she greeted him with a reserved smile as if she actually was a frequenter here, not however too willing to be over familiar with the bartender. And then she looked around the room with a studied air of self-confidence.

Fortunately, the audience was neither too small, which could have drawn too much unnecessary attention to her actions, nor too big, which might have caused some logistic problems if something went wrong. There were four Kraut soldiers across the room, now too busy ordering beer and irritating Marie, a young waitress, in the process. There were also three old men, undoubtedly French, sitting at a smaller table in the middle of the room and talking. Her gaze, however, was immediately drawn to two men in Nazi officer uniforms who were sitting on the right.

She recognized Stiglitz at once, although his photograph in a newspaper Paul had shown to her several weeks before was a bit vague. He faced the entrance with his back to the soldiers from under the opposite wall, which was lucky for her. He looked at her when she entered and his eyes practically never left her figure while she was walking towards him with an encouraging smile, swinging her hips, fully aware of her feminine attributes in this game. He, however, was watching her with no emotion, tensed, as she could assess, ready to strike. His companion seemed slightly confused.

One of the soldiers made a drunken attempt to stand up and even mumbled something in her direction, but his friend pulled him down at once. She was evidently the type of girl that goes with officers, not with ordinary soldiers. She did not even glance at them, fully concentrated on the task in hand, ready to play it well, as she had already known it would not be as easy as Paul had thought it to be. Stiglitz was not a horny rookie taking his first steps in conspiracy; one mistake, one hesitation, and she would see a death sentence in his otherwise impassive expression.

The several steps she had to walk from the entrance took both too little and too much time and she stopped in front of him with well-masked uncertainty. He stood up, which was good, whether he did it out of idle curiosity or because it was easier to stab her from that position.

'Rudi! What a nice surprise!, she exclaimed while putting her arms around his neck. 'I missed you so much!'

He stiffened, quite reasonably in fact, but there were only seconds before she moved her mouth close to his ear.

'Pretend that you know me', she whispered with insistence.

He must have heard her well, as he somewhat relaxed, but only a moment later she felt his hands clenching around her waist. There was no retreat now.

She leaned backward as much as she could and saw dark amusement in his eyes.

'I thought you had left', she twittered joyfully, aware of several pairs of eyes watching them at the moment. 'I'm so glad you are staying.'

To her surprise he grinned at her and before she had time to think what was hidden behind this grin his mouth assaulted hers in a more than passionate kiss. She froze. She had expected rejection, a stab in the back in the worst possible scenario, but not his lips on her mouth, frenzied, possessive, fiery hot. She heard some wolf-whistles coming from the soldiers' table and that woke her up. She composed her face and succumbed to the kiss. Yet everything she started to feel, his smell, his warmth, a taste of whisky on his lips, suddenly came to an end, as he slowly retreated.

He chuckled at her confusion, which was irritating in itself.

'You have asked for that', he said and his voice suddenly evoked some memories, but she had no time to ponder over them now. She smiled her most charming smile for the bystanders' sake, before speaking again in a low voice.

'We must go out immediately. It's not safe here. The soldiers may recognize you at any time.'

'And you, doll, are so sensitive to my fate', his irony was almost touchable.

'They talked about you half an hour ago.'

His smile was close to a smirk, but he made his decision before she had time to insist more.

'Let's go then', his arm moved around her waist, but before leading her out he said something to his companion, which made the other stand up and follow them just after throwing some coins on the table.

She only managed to have a furtive glance at Paul and they went out, first into a half-dark corridor, and then into an even darker street.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Inglourious Basterds are of course the property of the one and only Mr. Tarantino. Nothing's changed in this matter.

**My warmest regards** to my first reviewers. Thanks a lot for your nice words of support.

Here comes chapter 2. Enjoy.

**2. In fact, it's our second meeting**

He stopped after taking several steps down the empty street to the spot not so well-lit by street lamps and, with his right arm still wrapped tightly around her waist, she had no choice but to stop, too, aware of Stiglitz's fingers pressed firmly to her stomach and his silent companion standing right behind her.

'Well, almighty saviour,' he asked in a low voice, turning her around so that they faced each other now, 'what is the plan?'

'Plan?', she echoed still slightly confused about how eventful the evening was becoming.

He took a step back and gave her a long piercing stare and even in this poor light she could say he was serious. His eyes moved from her face to her long platinum blond hair and then they moved down. She knew he was analyzing her red, close-fitting dress, red lipstick on her mouth, or rather what remained of it, her elegant purse and matching shoes.

'The plan,' she started when the silence became difficult to stand, 'was to take you out of the tavern before the soldiers could recognize you.'

'So I assume you know well who I am and what I am capable of,' he said with strange amusement.

She nodded.

'Good,' he admitted. 'That will save me a lot of explanation on what I will do if you are not telling us something really crucial. Like an ambush. Or armed Nazi soldiers at the end of this street. So now, my pretty, tell me what the rest of your plan was before I assume that you have a weak spot for German officers. You'd better not,' he smirked even more.

She shifted uneasily under his gaze and was mentally cursing and swearing at all and any Paul's silly ideas he had ever persuaded her to take part in.

'I was to take you to a safe place where I am meeting a friend of mine.'

'We are relieved to hear that you are not acting on your own,' came a deep voice from behind her and she turned around. Stiglitz's companion was slightly taller and older than him with dark hair and solemn expression. He was really handsome, she had to admit it, but did not seem any less dangerous than Stiglitz, as she could judge. 'And what about this friend of yours? Is she as nice-looking as you?'

'In fact,' she replied, 'it's him not her and he's a big fan of your work.'

'As if I heard it somewhere, once upon a time', Stiglitz muttered under his breath and she noticed a glance he exchanged with the other man.

'So, angel,' he drew her towards himself in one swift movement, 'if you know so much about us, take us to this meeting point and introduce us to your friend. But be careful not to do any single thing we won't like. Nod if this it clear'.

She nodded, now more angry than scared, and motioned them to follow her down the street. It was not long before Stiglitz's arm was put around her waist once again and for a while he pressed her body against him meaningfully.

She led them through a labyrinth of dark and empty backyards to another street where she motioned them to stop for a while just to check if the cast was clear. Both of them got tense at the same moment, but she noticed nothing suspicious around so she simply told them to go.

Their destination, a small house at the end of the street, was as dark and quiet as ever. She knocked at the door carefully using one of the three combinations previously agreed with the person who stood at the door only a few seconds later, evidently surprised and anxious.

'Hello, Emma. It's all right,' Sophie anticipated any possible questions about the _German officers _standing right behind her. 'Paul will explain it later.'

Emma, a plump woman well in her fifties, did not, however, ask a single question. She simply nodded and let them into a dark hall before disappearing in a kitchen opposite. Stiglitz's companion made a move in that direction, but Sophie touched his arm.

'_Please_,' she said. 'Unless you are hungry'.

'In fact I am,' he admitted, making Stiglitz chuckle.

'So I guess you can make yourself at home,' she said hoping he would not scare Emma too much.

He gave her a faint smile and went to the kitchen, which left her alone with Stiglitz in the darkness, save for a bit of light coming from the kitchen. They stood in silence for a while and she realized he was listening, still suspicious, to his friend talking to Emma in broken French. She uttered a frustrated sigh.

'Listen,' she said and his eyes were on her again. 'It's safe here. It's not that Emma is going to hit your friend with a frying pan or something…'

Not that she expected him to laugh at her poor attempt at a joke, but he did not even smile, did not reply, did not issue a single sound for that matter, but was simply staring at her for what seemed to be a long, agonizing moment. Long enough to make her confidence turn into vexation and she suddenly thought of the men he had killed.

His hand slowly touched the switch on the side wall and he turned on the light without even taking his eyes off her and watched her blink under the sudden brightness, studying her face with interest. His stare was still unnerving and she suddenly felt drops of sweat forming under her blonde wig, between her shoulder blades and on her palms.

'When will your friend join us?,' he asked flatly.

'I don't know exactly. He has to take someone from the tavern.'

'Oh, really?,' he snorted and took a step in her direction reducing the distance between them to the extent she did not like at all.

'It's not what you think it is…,' she started but lapsed into silence when he touched her chin and gently moved his fingers along her jaw line.

She froze. She knew that gesture, recognized it.

'And what do I think it is?,' he teased.

She just closed her eyes for a moment in a childish attempt to avoid his gaze.

'What's your name, girl?', he asked, his face inches from hers, and now she was sure she had heard the same question asked in the same intimidating way, coming from the same man that was now standing in front of her with an amused expression. _I know that you know that I know what we both know._

'Do you need some time with her, Hugo?'

The sudden question made them both flinch, but Sophie was the only one who gasped. She saw the other man come back to the hall with what looked like a sandwich in his hand. 'I can…,' he gestured towards the kitchen.

'Not necessary, Wicki,' Stiglitz let go of her chin and smiled. 'I just happen to know our charming little friend.'

'How…?'

'And if nothing has changed too much, she does mean us no harm.'

She held her breath in sudden realization.

_About two years ago, the middle of May, as she remember well, a few minutes left before the curfew. Her careful footsteps still too loud in an empty street. She saw a black car some fifty metres ahead, in front of her house. The car both unfamiliar, as she had not seen it before, and familiar, as she knew exactly what it meant. _

_She stopped uncertain and at the same moment she felt someone's hand on her mouth and the other hand wrapping around her waist from behind. _

'_Shh, you must hide.' _

_The voice belonged to a man, not to mention a German, but she did not fight and allowed him to pull her into the dark gate of the nearest tenement house. _

'_Be quiet,' he insisted once more before letting her go. She turned around and almost screamed when he saw a German soldier in what definitely was a Wehrmacht uniform. He put his finger on her mouth in an instant._

'_Be quiet unless you want Gestapo officers to hear you.'_

'_The trap is set in my flat,' she rather stated than asked in a harsh voice, still uncertain what to think about his unexpected, even unbelievable intervention. Her German was not perfect, but it had to do._

'_Precisely,' he said with a slight smirk._

'_My mum's there,' she moved forward, but he was quick enough to stop her._

'_Calm down!' he ordered when she struggled. 'You won't help her. They don't give a fucking damn. They will take both of you, even if it is you they are waiting for.'_

'_How did you…?' she muttered. 'Why did you help…?'_

_He studied her for a while._

'_How? Coincidence as you may say. Why? Let's say it's a good beginning,' he smirked again. 'Do you have anywhere to go?'_

_She nodded eagerly and suddenly froze._

'_My brother?'_

'_He's not in the flat, I heard them talking earlier. Should he be coming home now?'_

'_Yes... I think so.'_

'_So let us wait for him,' he said._

_And it was more than an hour before they finally went their separate ways._

'It's you!' she blinked and he smirked again.

'I take it that you recognize me now.'

She nodded.

'Good. And what is even better is the fact that I've recognized you. Luckily for you, my memory serves me well,' he took a step backward and she inhaled deeply in an attempt to control herself again. She shook her head.

'I can't believe it! I've never thought I'll ever meet you again.'

'It's enough to say that you are pleased to see me again.'

His lips curled slightly.

'And talking about pleasantries, let me introduce you Corporal Wilhelm Wicki,' he gestured to his companion who was observing the whole exchange with interest.

'Sophie Larmount,' she extended her hand in his direction, however irrational this gesture seemed to be, considering the circumstances.

Stiglitz chuckled, but Wicki, probably the best-mannered man in the whole squad, kissed her hand and smiled.

'Nice to meet you, Sophie.'

She returned the smile and Stiglitz's chuckle got louder.

'So it is Sophie now?' he asked in amusement. 'Suits you.'

She felt a fit of anger and was about to reply when Emma appeared in the kitchen's door.

'Paul is coming,' she announced, showing no emotion at all. _But it is not her that has just been here alone with Stiglitz._

'OK, Emma,' Sophie was once again in control of her voice not to give any bloody satisfaction either to this smirking, irritating man who seemed to take great pleasure in putting her on edge, or to the idiot who had set her up and who was now knocking at the door, probably grinning.

'Please prepare some food for them to take out, will you?' she told Emma before opening the door.

Emma shrugged her shoulders.

'Already prepared.'

'But there are more of them than just these two.'

Emma rolled her eyes.

'I read newspapers, not only cookery books.'

'Sorry,' Sophie turned to the door to hide an involuntary smile.

Stiglitz and Wicki, both on guard, stepped back to make room for the newcomers and they were surprised to see a little girl clinging to Sophie only after she crossed the threshold. It was Sophie's turn to smirk. She did not know about Wicki, but Stiglitz had definitely expected someone else.

The hall suddenly seemed too small to accommodate all of them. Paul was a bit nervous and breathless and Sophie's smirk increased when she observed drops of sweat forming on her friend's forehead. Definitely it was one thing to read about the Basterds' deeds and to kibitz them wholeheartedly, but having to face two of them, evidently armed, solemn-looking men, was a completely different story. She, however, was not going to make it any easier for him. _The bastard deserves it._

'Gentlemen,' he finally started in strangely accented German, after a moment of awkward silence, 'I hope Sophie has explained to you a delicate situation in the tavern.'

'Some general points.' Stiglitz's gaze was neither friendly nor understanding and Paul flinched, but once he started he had to continue his little speech.

'I am a big fan of your work…'

'Exactly her words', said Wicki whose smile was half-amused, half-dangerous and did nothing to make Paul feel at ease.

'Well. We… we really support what you do.'

'I guess so.'

'Yes, and we would like to help at least as much as we are able to. Do you need anything apart from food? Clothes, blankets…'

Stiglitz raised his hand to stop him.

'Food and water is enough at this stage of our love affair. We don't want to overstrain your resources.'

Paul visibly relaxed, but Stiglitz continued with a strange glint in his eyes.

'However, as you may expect, we must report this nice meeting to Lt. Raine. And he will be more than happy to meet this lady,' he gestured at Sophie, 'personally.'

The silence that fell just after that sentence surprised Paul; he had expected Stiglitz to make an appointment and was confused when no date was set.

'Meaning?' he blinked, but Sophie turned pale, as she had already deciphered the message behind this.

'Meaning that your friend will come with us.'

'What?!' she asked before Paul could find his voice again.

'You are coming with us,' Stiglitz's tone left no room for protest.

'Like hell I am!' she hissed.

'I'm afraid,' Wicki's smile and tone were almost apologetic, 'you don't have much choice.'

Paul decided to intervene before the evening's events could take another unexpected turn.

'All right. Right,' he raised his palms in a gesture that was supposed to be reassuring, but seemed desperate. 'No need to raise your voice, Sophie,' he stopped her approaching outburst before turning his attention again to the Basterds. 'Listen, I hate to disagree, but she can't go with you. She must return home. There's a car waiting… and she must take the child to her place safely', he pointed to Sarah-Julie as a last resort.

Wicki studied the child's dark hair in sudden understanding.

'Is she…?

'Yes, she is,' Paul hastened to reply. 'Sophie must take her home. The poor little thing is scared and exhausted.'

'Which poor little thing do you mean?,' Stiglitz smiled playfully at Sophie who decided to ignore him as much as possible.

'Parents?' Wicki asked in a low voice, although the little girl seemed oblivious of the whole exchange, her face nestled in creases of Sophie's dress.

Paul shook his head sadly.

They just watched the child for a while and Stiglitz was the first to break the silence.

'All right, Monsieur …'

'Just Paul. Paul is enough.'

'All right, Paul. We will take the child and your charming friend to our camp. After Aldo talks to her, we can take them home. Sounds reasonable?'

Paul hesitated, evidently torn between his readiness to prove helpful to the Basterds and unwillingness to send Sophie straight into the lion's jaws, no matter how cuddly this lion could appear to be for them, and not to mention sending her with a man whose achievements included killing thirteen grown-up men, officers to say the least.

'Gentlemen,' he nearly groaned, 'is it really necessary?'

'I can ensure you it is,' Stiglitz's stare was as hard as before. 'Last month we almost lost one soldier in a nice trap set by the so-called supporters of our cause. So don't blame us if we are a bit distrustful. Aldo will talk to her and then we will take her and the child to her house, provided it is nowhere near Berlin.'

'It is not. One-hour drive from here.'

'We have a truck nearby. So do we have a deal?'

'Would you mind asking me perhaps?,' Sophie hissed in irritation, furious that the whole conversation was somehow taking place besides her.

Stiglitz's expression was rather amused and definitely smug, but Paul hurried to appease her anger.

'Don't!' she shook his hand of her arm.

'Sophie, please.'

'I haven't volunteered for this mission,' she snapped.

'No, you haven't, but you know you must go with them.'

'Is it a request or a command?'

'Request. A very kind request.'

'You are kindly sending me away with men I don't even know enough to trust them.'

Stiglitz snorted.

'My, my, you are hurting my feelings, mademoiselle. I've thought you should know you don't need to be afraid of me, taking into account our old acquaintance.'

Paul seemed immovable for a while.

'D'you…you know each other?'

'Hardly,' Sophie wanted to be the first to answer the question, afraid of what Stiglitz would say if given a chance. 'Bowing acquaintance,' she shrugged.

'You've never told me you know Hugo Stiglitz!' Paul sounded both disappointed and curious, and she suddenly had had enough of this farce.

'All right. I agree. I'll go with them. Happy now?', she glared at Paul and looked at Stiglitz's face absolutely positive what she would find there.

She was not disappointed. He just smirked.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **As before.

**Many thanks **for people who have reviewed this story and added it to favourites. Thanks a lot.

**Chapter 3** especially for you.

**3. First greetings and introductions**

When accepting the undeniably honourable position as the commander of the elite squad of Jewish American Nazi-killers, Aldo Raine was one hundred percent positive that the path he had chosen to tread would be definitely something more than a road of easy victories and clever plans put in practice by a team of cold-blooded professionals. His subordinates were young and eager, which was their main advantage, but their military experience was practically non-existing before, with the notable exception of Donowitz, Wicki and, last but not least, Stiglitz.

His men followed his orders blindly, still another benefit he could not underestimate, but their enthusiasm for work sometimes gave him a headache, especially in the case of Hirschberg and Kagan who happened to shoot some of their Kraut captives before Aldo even had a chance to get information out of them. Not that the lieutenant blamed them for being so overenthusiastic, but his Tennessean sense of economy made him wince at such obvious waste of resources.

But, honestly, it was not so hard to predict. He should have known that this mission would be different from any other he had ever taken part in. After all, it did not take a genius to know that being the commander of and, to all intents and purposes, a father figure for this specific group would require more patience and cold blood than Aldo had ever thought himself capable of. And in fact planning military actions against German soldiers was nothing in comparison with solving everyday problems and conflicts that seemed to be a side effect, yet an inseparable part, of Nazi-killing business.

Like Utivich vomiting on Wicki's back shortly after taking his first scalp off the head of a Nazi soldier who appeared to be not as completely dead as they had thought him to be.

Or Zimmerman and Omar discussing and evidently comparing their poor experience with women, which ended in a quick and violent fight and, to everyone's surprise, it was Zimmerman's face that was slightly distorted ten minutes later.

Or Donny making advances to a farmer's daughter, which resulted in her brother throwing a knife at the Bear Jew. Fortunately, the blade missed Donny by inches, but all hell was about to break loose and it took Aldo two hours of the highest quality diplomatic efforts to handle the case and convince the farmer's family that Donny had just misread her body language, while the reason of the whole fuss was giggling stupidly behind her father's back.

And at the top of all these small daily pleasures was Hirschberg who had woken Aldo up in the middle of the night to inform him about his quite refreshing theory of Stiglitz being a blood-thirsty psychopath planning to slaughter them all before dawn. With exactly the same knife Hirschberg had caught him sharpening earlier in the evening.

Each and every time Aldo gave his men a comprehensive lecture on, respectively, the need of mutual understanding, tolerance, control of one's urges and trust towards the fellow soldiers, but after several more incidents like that he gave up. His most recent strategy was to remain cool, calm and collected, even if his blood was actually boiling in his veins. Nevertheless, his jaw almost dropped to the ground when Stiglitz materialized in their camp out of thin air, two hours before they had actually expected him, dragging along what looked like a girl in a red dress. For several painfully long seconds the lieutenant could neither move his mouth nor find his voice again.

The reason why his soldiers did not even notice this rare moment of weakness on the commander's face was very simple. Each of the three Basterds that were sitting with Aldo around the fire was absolutely dumbstruck with the sight in front of them, trying to figure it out. Donny's lips were automatically extended in a sadistic smile as if in expectation of some notable benefits that could result from this sudden development. Kagan was gaping at the whole scene with his mouth open, which obviously did not add to his normally not-so-good looks. And Hirschberg was staring goggle-eyed, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

Aldo was the first one to wake up from the stupor.

'Stiglitz, where did you find this Nazi bride and why the hell did you bring her here?'

Honestly, it was Donny, not Stiglitz, in this team who often put their collective interest in women in practice and made, or at least tried to make, the acquaintance of local girls whenever possible, but even he would have never dared to actually bring one to their camp.

Stiglitz stopped stoically in front of the fire and let go of the girl's arm. She scowled at him, but his eyes were straight on Aldo.

'We need to talk.'

The lieutenant snorted at the obviousness of this statement. Sure as hell, some explanation was in order.

'Where the fuck is Wicki?', he asked in mild irritation.

'On the truck.'

'Injured?'

'No more than I am. Can we talk, _sir_?'

Aldo grimaced. Either he was being oversensitive, the feature the lieutenant did not want to have associated with himself even in the slightest degree, or every time Stiglitz addressed him as sir it sounded more like a kind of private joke between the two of them, not the sign of respect or recognition for the commander's rank.

Yet he nodded his consent.

'Donny, take care of the…', he hesitated a bit, but decided to sound neutral, just in case, 'the girl', and he motioned Stiglitz to follow him to his tent. He had a strange feeling about their conversation.

Sophie glared at their backs and if she had been irritated before, when she was manoeuvred into this completely unplanned journey with the Basterds to their goddamn hideout, and later her irritation increased even more when Stiglitz led her along a dark forest path from the truck and his fingers dug uncomfortably into her arm each time she tripped, it was all nothing compared to a fit of anger she felt when he left her in the middle of the camp without even a single word or glance in her direction.

Not that he had paid much attention to her since they left Emma's house. He just chose to ignore her, which was, she hated to admit it, much more unnerving than his previous excessive interest. She did have questions, quite many questions she wanted to ask him, but the glance she received from him before she really uttered what she wanted to say was all but inviting. Instead it was Wicki who exchanged a few words with her and even offered to carry Julie on their way to the Basterds' truck, when the child visibly slowed down and started to yawn.

Whether it was a bit of luck or Stiglitz's sixth sense when he led them forward, but they reached the truck without any accidents at all and she was briefly introduced to two more men in German uniforms. They were both surprised, she could say that at once, but did not articulate their astonishment at all. Maybe they were used to surprises. Maybe they knew better than to ask questions, considering Stiglitz's stern expression.

The one they called Utivich was ordered to drive, whereas the other one, by the name of Omar, was briefly told to take care of what they had brought from Emma, including a few bottles of wine Paul generously added to the rucksacks with food. And after the supplies were loaded onto the truck Stiglitz told Sophie to travel with Wicki and Omar at the back in a voice that brooked no argument, the same voice he had just used with the soldiers. She glared at him ready to argue not exactly about the message received but about his tone, but he only smirked his temporary goodbye to her and went to the driver's cabin.

So she had no choice but to let Wicki help her and Julie get onto the truck and they sat on some blankets spread on the floor. On Wicki's request Omar had left two little lanterns lit and although they cast little light, it was better than sitting in the dark. The monotonous drive and a murmur of the men talking in low voices lulled Julie to sleep very soon, her head resting on Sophie's lap. She watched the little girl breathe in and out peacefully and she suddenly realized how tired she was. Tired, frustrated and annoyingly aware of the dirty, stuffy interior of the truck, of dark, brownish stains on the blanket and of a sickening smell coming from the corner. She closed her eyes for a while. It all reminded her of something she just wanted to forget about.

'Where did you meet Hugo?'

The question Wicki asked in a casual tone was so unexpected that it shook her out of drowsiness at once. She looked at him, analyzing his tone for any hidden menace or obtrusiveness, but found nothing more than polite interest. Which probably meant that any interrogation had not began yet.

Omar was simply watching her with a hint of smile.

'In Warsaw,' she said not sure how much she wanted to say, but Wicki waited patiently for her to continue. 'He saved me and my brother from Gestapo. Warned us. Don't know why he did it', she shrugged.

Wicki just looked at her and it was probably an effect of the poor lighting, but for a brief moment his expression was intense, concentrated, as if in a flash of recognition. A moment later she thought she must have imagined it.

'Hugo told me he had been stationed in Warsaw,' he said after a while when she was almost sure that their little talk was over.

'Yes,' she admitted. 'When I met him he was a Wehrmacht soldier.'

'An enemy,' either Wicki's voice had a teasing edge to it or it was her imagination again.

'An enemy,' she agreed after a pause. She was not sure what he was getting at.

'But you were grateful that he had helped you', he rather stated than asked.

'No,' she denied and her gaze immediately shifted to the floor between them. 'I was…,' she hesitated in search of the best word to describe it. 'I was confused.'

He just smiled, but before he said what he evidently wanted to say the truck suddenly stopped, and she guessed they must have reached their destination. She tried to awake the child, which turned out to be a futile effort; the little girl opened her eyes only to shut them close again, and after a few more attempts Sophie had to give up. It was not long before the tarpaulin at the back was rolled up; Stiglitz came to see why the hell they had not get out yet.

'Just leave the child here,' he said impatiently when Wicki explained him the reason.

'I can't…,' she started, but was interrupted in mid-flow.

'Wicki will stay with her and we two must see the lieutenant now. We'll be back soon. So stop being difficult and get out. I was under the impression that you were in a hurry.'

She bit her lip not to snap at him. Instead, she gently moved Julie's sleeping form to the bundle of blankets Wicki had drawn up. Then she just stood up and went to the back of the truck, her legs a bit numb after travelling in a position that could hardly be called comfortable.

Outside Stiglitz moved over, making room for her to get out.

'Let me help you,' he offered, but she ignored his extended hand and concentrated hard on jumping down without stumbling. Which she partly failed, but he was quick to catch her hand when she staggered. He chuckled softly.

'Not the best shoes for jumping, eh?'

She glared at him and the whole irritation she had felt before returned with double force. He had already changed his clothes, his German uniform replaced by a dark shirt and a black leather jacket, which made him look different; she realized she had never seen him other than in a soldier's attire. But his facial expression did not really change much.

'Just you, me and the darkness around,' he smirked. 'Does it remind you of something?', he stroked her wrist in an insinuating manner and she broke out of his grip in an instant.

She looked around. They were in the forest, there was no doubt about this, but she had absolutely no idea where exactly they could be and the fact that it was dark did not help. Not even a bit. The moonlight only distorted images, created shapes and shadows that she knew did not exist in the daylight, but now they were terribly real.

She shuddered and suddenly realized that it was cold, just another little factor to add to her frustration. The whole day was sunny and warm, but it was April, not to mention the evening and, for crying out loud, she had not really planned a trip to the forest. She crossed her arms in an attempt to protect herself against the chill.

Stiglitz just smirked or rather his previous smirk became more pronounced and he took off his jacket.

'I don't need it,' she said, her tone becoming just as cold as her hands, when he held the jacket out to her.

'You will be cold.'

'No, I am fine.' Of course she was not, but she would be damned if she was going to accept anything from him at that particular moment. He put the jacket on again with no comment.

'So I guess you are ready to go,' he switched on a torch and lit the path for them. 'This way, mademoiselle.'

She wanted to follow him rather than walk beside, but after she tripped twice on the uneven surface, he just pulled her to his side, his arm sneaking around her waist and his fingers holding her arm in a firm grip.

'Believe me that's better. We don't want you to break your leg,' he chuckled at her furious face and pulled her forward with both determination and care.

A sudden movement in front of them made her heart almost stop beating, but the shadow that had just broken away from the nearby tree turned out to be another soldier from Aldo the Apache's squad. His conversation with Stiglitz was brief. He cast a curious glance at Sophie and then went towards the truck, his rifle on his back again.

'Let's go,' Stiglitz whispered, his mouth almost brushing her ear, and she flinched at his sudden proximity. 'Unless you want to prolong our little tête-à-tête.'

'Let's go,' she said through clenched teeth, which amused him much.

She just rolled her eyes and kept going, resolved to ignore all his taunts on their way to the camp. And she did, which eventually wiped the smirk off his face. But when he left her on the clearing to talk to his commander, well, not exactly left but abandoned with no explanation as if she had been a prisoner dragged to their camp, she was almost sure it was an act of revenge for being ignored. _Probably the fucker could not stand it_.

Still scowling she rubbed her arm, but (_eyes on the task)_ she took several deep breaths to calm down. Her glare moved to the three men sitting immovably by the fire and observing her with seemingly different expressions, but she subconsciously felt their gaping had something in common. She did not like it. Not at all.

She took another deep breath and Donny licked his lips. He had absolutely no idea where Stiglitz had found her, but he did not give a fucking damn. What, however, was important to him right now was the command Aldo had just given, putting him in charge of her. Him, neither Kagan nor Hirschberg both gaping at the girl like a pair of complete morons. Meaning that her fate was exactly in Donny's hands. At least at the moment.

She was by no means the first Nazi bitch they had come across during their terror-bringing crusade. A few weeks ago, when they had attacked a group of Kraut soldiers on a country road somewhere in the middle of nowhere, there was a woman among the survivors, a German captain's wife, and she was definitely enough to Donny's liking to teach her a lesson in humanity somewhere in the wet grass near her husband's blood-stained body.

But Aldo refused his favourite sergeant that small amount of pleasure. Instead, they just let her go only after Raine's knife had left a miniature souvenir on her forehead, a quite good replica of swastikas the lieutenant usually carved onto Nazi soldiers' skin. She fell into violent hysterics even before the blade touched her skin and Donny who had to hold her still could only imagine that she was wriggling and moaning under his own body. Aldo just told him to leave her there and move his fucking ass. They had been in a fucking hurry.

Now, however, he could take his time.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **As before.

**Thanks again **to people who have reviewed this story and added it to favourites. It's ALWAYS great to hear from you. It keeps me working. Faster.

As I can easily observe in the Traffic section, the story has got (surprisingly) many hits, so I would like to address those several hundreds of too shy or too busy visitors: if you want to leave your few words of constructive criticism, you are welcome. I don't bite. I'm in fact nicer than Stiglitz ;-).

**Here comes Chapter 4. **Enjoy.

**4. Little misunderstanding **

The truth was that she had expected teasing, even looked forward to it, ready to vent all her frustration on them as soon as they dared start their taunts. She knew that staring at her in silence would not take long, she could see that right on their faces. Especially on one face. The man sitting on the left looked at her with an odd smile, his eyes like black, glittering holes in his face. The glitter may have been an effect of the fire burning bright in front of him, but there was still something disturbing in his face, something both terrifying and insane. For a moment a quiet whisper at the back of her head, the voice of reason as she would think later, told her to turn around and run as fast as she could, but this feeble voice could not really break through her annoyance. Not a chance.

He slowly stood up, a baseball bat in his hand, and she was almost sure she recognized him; snatches of her conversations with Paul flashed through her mind as she feverishly tried to recall all and any information she had ever heard about the Basterds. Both exciting and hair-raising rumours, spiteful paragraphs in official newspapers, hymns of praise in leaflets their Parisian courier had brought them, bits of what Paul had managed to overhear from German soldiers in his tavern and echoes of his own fascination with the Jewish American Nazi-killers. So when she watched the intimidating figure come up to her unhurriedly, she felt the first twinge of uncertainty. In particular, she was no longer sure it was a good idea to yell at him, which in fact had been her first thought when she saw him rise.

His eyes locked on hers while he was approaching her like a predator sure his prey would not escape, and he could swear she shuddered when he finally stood in front of her. She was tall, her high-heeled shoes gave her an additional inch or two, but he still towered over her and it pleased Donny much to have her here, in front of him, paralyzed by what he interpreted as fear and disgust. It reminded him of the Kraut captain's wife and exactly the same combination he had seen on her face. His smile grew wider, but it was by no means pleasant.

'You know something, Hirschberg', he said, not even averting his gaze from her face, 'I wonder why these Nazi bitches always have such damn good tits.'

She did not know the last word he used and she could only guess its meaning, but the phrase 'Nazi bitch' was perfectly understandable. She glared at him in both disbelief and indignation and he was taken aback by the fact that she probably knew what he had said. But her linguistic abilities did not change anything indeed.

Hirschberg let out a nervous giggle and stood up, approaching her swiftly from the other side and she almost felt his breath on her neck when she took an unconscious step back. The one in front of her, who must have been Donowitz, the Bear Jew as Germans called him, smiled at her without a hint of amiability. He raised the bat he held and she flinched, both angry and suddenly terrified of what the hell he was going to do, but he simply moved the bat close to her face, so close that she could see dark stains smeared on its top.

'Can you smell it?', he asked softly and both the gesture and his unexpected tone that followed it made her freeze to the spot. 'Can you smell Nazi blood?'

And then he gently, almost tenderly, touched her cheek with the side of his bat watching her flinch, observing her with the excitement of a scientist carrying out a new experiment, both fascinating and dangerous. Then, still gently yet inevitably, his bat slid down to her neck and then to her neckline, as if he had been going to outline her form from top to bottom. That woke her up. She fiercely pushed the bat aside and he caught her wrist at once, as if he was waiting for exactly that move.

'Don't touch me!', she warned in English and although she spoke with a foreign accent, the message was clear.

But he only gave a derisive laugh and his other hand shot forward and cupped her breast. Not really squeezing it; at least at that moment the gesture was all for effect, to make her know her place. Which she obviously did not want to accept easily, as she slapped him across the face as hard and fast as she could.

He withdrew his hand. For a moment he just looked at her in cold fury, considering a retaliatory action. He could easily return the blow, but was sure that would leave a damage he did not want to leave. At least not yet.

'Hirschberg, her hands!', he eventually ordered and the man behind her yanked her arms backwards before she had time to blink.

Donny smiled at her _I-don't-believe-it's-actually-happening_ expression and put his hands on her shoulders, as if in a reassuring gesture. And before she could judge the true meaning behind this, his hands suddenly slid down to the neckline of her dress, his fingers gripped the soft fabric and he pulled it forcefully down in one quick movement.

'Stiglitz!', she screamed through the sound of the torn material and watched in disbelief as the top of her dress was simply split in half down to her waist, revealing her bra and exposing her skin to the cold evening air.

'Stop it!', Aldo's voice was like a whip on his back and Donny's hands stopped at once before they could even touch the girl again, the next step he had been planning. Hirschberg almost jumped and released her hands at once, trying to sneak away back to the fire when the lieutenant's angry stare pinned him to the ground when he was halfway there.

And then Stiglitz rushed towards her, nearly knocking the Bear Jew out of the way, which was an unusual development, as being the most dangerous beasts in the squad, they normally avoided a confrontation as much as possible. Donny watched in astonishment as the German psycho took off his jacket cursing under his breath and was trying to wrap it around the girl's shaking form, and he did not even show a slightest sign of impatience when she pushed his hands away time after time, before she finally gave up and let him help her put her arms in the sleeves and zip her in, as if she had been a child that needed to be looked after.

Donny watched the whole scene, his eyes growing bigger with every second. And then she just looked him straight in the face with so much hatred and disgust that he instinctively took a few steps back. Not that he was scared or something, the whole idea being absolutely ridiculous, but he felt a sudden desire to put some distance between himself and the girl, whoever the fuck she was, not to mention her unexpected protector. He even turned around. Only to meet Aldo's furious face.

'Damnit, Donovitz!'

'She slapped me', Donny said as a kind of explanation.

'Slapped you for nothing?! What the fuck is wrong with you?! I told you to take care of her!'

'You did, lieutenant', he admitted, still confused about the whole fuss.

'So tell me which fucking part of _take care of_ you don't comprehend?!'

Donny shrugged helplessly.

'You always tell me to take care of Krauts we catch alive and that doesn't mean I am to offer them coffee or something…', he started uncertain if it was a good line of defence.

It definitely was not. Aldo swore under his breath, making a mental note to discuss the obviously crucial problem of order interpretation. Not only with Donowitz. With all his men. In the nearest future. He looked at the girl standing a few metres from him and ignoring Stiglitz's quiet attempts at conversation.

'Are you all right, miss?', he asked politely in what he supposed was a reassuring voice, since he was rather positive she did not know English. It turned out, however, that she did.

'I'm far away from all right', she spat furiously.

'I'm terribly sorry for this little misunderstanding…'

'Misunderstanding?!,' she repeated scowling, 'Misunderstanding!? You should keep this oaf on a chain!'

Aldo's eyes glittered dangerously, his hand going automatically to his pocket and stopping in midair as he realized he had left the snuff box in his tent. So the direction was changed and his hand shot up to his head, his fingers running through his dirty hair.

Stiglitz, who knew these symptoms perfectly well, approached the commander in two steps.

'I think she needs just a few minutes to calm down, sir. Considering the circumstances.'

Aldo gave him a nasty smile as the first seeds of irritation had already started to sprout in front of his eyes. He breathed in with a hiss and looked at the girl once again. He did not have any fucking time to wait for her to kindly calm down. And no, absolutely no, bloody wench would ever give him good advice on how he should treat his men. Not to mention in their presence.

'Do you want to submit an official complaint about my soldier's behaviour?', he asked softly, but there was a clearly dangerous edge to his voice and Stiglitz turned back to her to see if she had felt it too.

She did not. Or she just chose to ignore it. And she looked no more calmer than before.

'Listen, you…', she started, her eyes sending furious sparks at the three of them, but she was suddenly distracted by something she saw in Stiglitz's face, which silenced her almost at once, though she was not sure what exactly it was. Perhaps his piercing eyes. Perhaps his lips pressed into a tight line of disapproval. And maybe a slight movement of his head. Thus she became silent and for a long moment no one said a word.

Aldo's lips stretched in a smug smile. At least she was reasonable enough to know when to shut the fuck up.

'Listen, miss,' he said in a drawl, 'I may be a man of many virtues, which you have probably heard of, but I can assure you I have only enough patience for my soldiers. So either you give up the idea of throwing a tantrum here or you will get to know the less pleasant part of myself. Firsthand. Understand?'

She nodded reluctantly.

'Good. So I am asking you once again. Do you want to submit an official complaint about my soldier's behaviour?'

She stared at him blankly for a while before her eyes shifted once more to Stiglitz's face and she saw him shake his head slightly. Again.

'No,' she said, hating herself for following Stiglitz's suggestion, but at the same time trusting that what he suggested was the best tactic. Considering the circumstances.

Donny's face brightened in a grin and she glared at him again, but saw, not without satisfaction, that her fingers had left quite a nice pattern on his right cheek that was visible even in this little light coming from the fire.

Aldo also smiled at her.

'Glad you're not a troublemaker.'

'Troublemaker?', she snorted, his words igniting the little spark she thought had already gone out.

The lieutenant almost groaned, his smile faded at once.

'All right. Don't start it again. It was nothing personal, just a kinda regrettable misunderstanding. We regret it happened. Donowitz regrets it,' he cast an angry glance at his second in command. 'Damnit, Donowitz, apologize to her so that we can finally talk business.'

'I'm sorry for the dress. I can make amends later,' Donny gave her a suggestive smile. 'If you like,' he added as an afterthought.

'Just stay away from me,' she glared at him again and Aldo eyed her critically.

'Apologies accepted?', he inquired.

'I guess so,' she shrugged.

'Good. So let's start again. As you probably know I'm Lt. Aldo Raine.'

'Sophie Larmount,' she answered automatically and it was when Stiglitz decided to cut in. Probably to hammer the final nail in her coffin, as she would think much later.

'Her name is Natalia Konarska.'

She froze. She might not have remembered well all the details of that fatal evening two years ago, but she was sure, more than sure in fact, that she had never given him her surname, although he asked twice. And her brother had known better than to introduce himself to a German soldier. So she just stared at him for what was long enough for Aldo to give an impatient snort. The whole issue turned out to be more complicated than he had originally thought, but he could still handle it.

'Would you care to explain me this considerable difference in yours and Hugo's version?,' he asked, but she ignored him, her eyes still on Stiglitz's immovable face.

'How do you know…?', she asked, and as much as he truly and honestly did not tolerate disrespect Aldo decided to wait for another turn of events, his eyes narrowed in cool calculation.

Stiglitz shrugged his shoulders, his expression an impassive mask.

'I checked on you then', he explained in an attempt to sound indifferent.

Yet he failed horribly. A sudden suspicion, still vague and imprecise, grew in her and she voiced it without thinking much.

'Did you check on me after or before?'

Stiglitz stared at her and Aldo, who observed the whole scene with ultimate attention, could swear his German sergeant was rather uncomfortable to answer this question. Yet the reply eventually came out of his mouth. Brief.

'Both after and before.'

The colour completely left her face and she suddenly felt a metallic taste on her lips.

'You told me it was a coincidence!', she said in a strained voice she hardly recognized as her own.

'It was. I found out about you three hours before. By accident.'

'They took my mum to Auschwitz! You could…', but Stiglitz cut her off in mid-phrase.

'I couldn't do nothing more than I did!,' he said, his voice harsh and a bit louder than before. 'By the time I got there they had already been in your flat! Luckily, you had been out. So I could only wait for you to warn you. That's all.'

She shook her head violently, her arms crossed and angry tears beginning to cloud her vision.

'Why did you bother at all?'

Stiglitz swore quietly and came up to her, his hand gently and hesitantly touching her shoulder. At least she did not knock it off. He murmured something to her and she was about to reply, but Aldo decided it was a good moment to stop the show. Before Donowitz, who was now observing the whole scene with both interest and amusement could ruin it with a crude comment.

'Listen, lady. I'll come straight to the point. I can see you have a kinda personal thing with one of my soldiers and I'm sure you can discuss it later in private. But I asked you a question you haven't cared to answer yet and I'm becoming a bit impatient to hear the answer.'

She looked at him absent-mindedly and his smile became more vicious.

'The different names you are known under. I'm positive the answer is very simple. Yet I'm dying to know it.'

He could see well that she was more than reluctant to answer. _Too bad._

'My name _is_ Natalia Konarska,' she finally confirmed.

'Russian?,' Donowitz had finally decided to join in.

'Polish,' Stiglitz answered for her.

'My mother was French,' she added reluctantly and lowered her eyes.

'Oh really?', Aldo raised an eyebrow. 'And what about the name you gave me before? Sophie…?'

'Sophie Larmount. It's the name I use in France. Belonged to my cousin.'

'Belonged?', Aldo drawled annoyed. Once the damned wench started to speak, she spoke in riddles. Probably in an attempt to drive him insane.

'She … she died four years ago. In Switzerland.'

'And she willed her name to you?', Aldo snorted. He did not understand half of what she was talking about. 'Can you elaborate your answers? I'm quite positive you've got an interesting story to tell.'

'Sophie!', a child's voice broke the silence before she opened her mouth and Aldo only managed to compose his features when Wicki appeared in the clearing carrying a child (_child??!!_) in his arms. A little girl, to make things even worse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **As before.

**Thanks again **to people who have reviewed this story and added it to favourites.

**Special mega thanks** to those who are with this story from the very beginning (and voice their opinions!).

**Chapter 5** is all for you. Have a good time.

**5. Preparations for the officers' party**

'You see,' Wicki said in French, as he gently put the child down. 'I told you we would find her.'

The little girl simply ran up to Sophie and clung on to her in relief. And while the lieutenant was trying to regain his composure, Ulmer and Utivich marched in, both carrying sacks.

'We got supplies, sir,' Wicki informed him in his usual polite tone that Aldo had always appreciated much, but right now his Austrian soldier's stoicism got on his nerves.

'Any ammunition?' he almost snapped.

'No. But we got wine.'

'Fine,' Aldo cut him off. 'Send two bottles to my tent. Right now.' Then he looked at Stiglitz. 'Is there anything else you haven't told me yet?' he asked in an icy tone.

Hugo sighed. The commander's evident annoyance was not something he wanted to feed. 'I was getting to this part when…' he gestured at Donowitz.

Wicki looked around and his eyes stopped at the Bear Jew.

'What happened to your face, Donny?' he asked with mild interest.

The Bear Jew however ignored him and went over to the little girl. Strange to say, she reminded him of his niece left in Boston, thousand of miles away from this damn place. He hunkered down beside the child and touched her shoulder. Sophie or Natalya, he did not know how to call her, hissed in anger and Stiglitz gave him a rebuking look, but it did not bother Donny in the least.

'What's your name, girlie?' he asked in the little French he knew, with gentleness nobody would have ever thought him capable of.

The child looked at him with wide eyes, studying his black hair and thick eyebrows, his large, muscular form, dog tags decorating his chest and jingling with his every move, and the baseball bat he thought it fit to take with him. 'Julie,' she replied in a tremulous voice.

Sophie stroked her hair. 'It's alright, Sarah. They are not German soldiers.'

'Sarah?' Donowitz looked at her in surprise and slowly got up, which scared the little girl even more.

'My name's Julie', she protested, almost on the verge of tears. 'And she's my aunt Sophie.'

'The child's Jewish', Wicki explained.

Aldo nodded. He had just successfully suppressed an urge to yell at someone; mostly because he could not find the most proper candidate – even Hirschberg and Kagan had known better than to make any clever comments, though they were still standing nearby, watching the changing scenes in deep interest.

'OK, Natalya,' the Lieutenant's voice finally broke the silence that fell after Wicki's revelations.

'Sophie', she corrected him. 'If you don't mind.'

'Whatever,' he replied in an impatient voice. 'I'm afraid we have a long friendly chat coming. Not to mention the fact that I'm expecting some explanation on why you interrupted my soldiers' military action.'

That definitely took her by surprise; she froze and her mouth slightly opened, and Aldo watched her with a feeling of immense satisfaction. That was not the last ace up his sleeve, but the effect was pretty nice.

'Military action?' She almost choked on the words and glanced at Stiglitz, who smirked at his commander's nice attempt at playing dirty.

'Indeed. They were in the damn tavern not without reason.' The lieutenant smiled spitefully at her unease.

Fortunately Sarah chose this moment to pull her hand and Sophie readily averted her gaze from the lieutenant to give attention to her charge. The child grimaced and spoke some muttered words in French.

'What is it again?' Aldo asked irritably. Honestly, his patience could last only a few minutes more. At best.

'Sarah wants to go to the toilet,' Sophie explained in a casual tone. In fact her own needs at the moment were exactly the same as the little girl's, not that she wished to inform any of them about that fact.

Aldo closed his eyes for a while, contemplating inevitable consequences of bringing women, and children for that matter, to the camp. For a few seconds he even considered a possibility of sending these two away to wherever the hell they belonged, but he dismissed this thought at once. After all it had been Stiglitz's initiative to bring them here. And whatever reasons his gloomy, taciturn, psychopathic sergeant had to trust that woman, the lieutenant wanted to know them. He was curious, no need to deny it.

'Alright,' he finally said, his eyes on Sophie again. 'You have one hour, miss. Take care of the child and you can put her to sleep in one of the tents. Utivich will assist you in any wish you may find necessary. Any reasonable wish', he stressed with a nasty smile. 'Have it in mind when asking for something.'

She exchanged glances with the said soldier, who looked at her uneasily and for a moment his face was close to panic.

'And right now,' the lieutenant's face brightened in a grin, 'Utivich will show you the way to our bathroom. Bring her a torch, Smithson.' He looked her up and down and his stare stopped at her shoes. 'Or better two torches.'

Utivich mumbled his standard 'yes, sir' without hesitation and hastened towards the tents, happy that he would leave the scene before his blush could be noticed by anyone, most of all by Hirschberg and Kagan. Sure as hell, later this evening he would have to bear their taunts, but frankly speaking he would gladly have it later than sooner.

Aldo looked around with confidence, his hands on his hips.

'Stiglitz, Wicki, in fifteen minutes we are having a meeting in my tent. Officers' meeting,' he added to emphasize the gravity of the situation and Stiglitz had to cough to mask a short laugh at the lieutenant's rare but precious attempt to add some formality to his soldiers' daily routine.

'What about me?' Donny complained, wincing with righteous indignation that he of all people could be passed over in anything that involved officers in this squad.

'You, Donowitz, I want to talk to right now,' the lieutenant turned around and headed for his tent, his thoughts focused on the snuff box. He desperately needed a hit.

Donny reluctantly followed him, only after receiving a venomous smile from the woman. But before she could turn her attention to Stiglitz, Utivich came back with torches and asked her to follow him. So she took Sarah's hand and concentrated hard on watching her step.

He led them across the camp to a narrow path that sloped downwards. It ran through the dark brushwood and Sarah swept it nervously with her torch, squeezing Sophie's fingers every time she saw something scary. Which was practically all the time.

Utivich suddenly stopped after they went about twenty metres down and he slowly turned to face them, his embarrassment perceptible even before he cleared his throat.

'I guess you can use the right side. We use the left one,' he explained, pointing to both sides of the path and she lit them with her torch.

It can't have been a joke, as his voice was completely devoid of humour and she could only grimace. Indeed when the lieutenant had mentioned a bathroom she did not expect much, but what she had expected was definitely more than where Utivich took them. And she did not really need a guide to lead her to this particular cluster of bushes and trees.

'Great,' she said. 'Please thank your commander for his courtesy.'

Utivich blinked, probably doubting the sincerity of this statement.

'The stream is over there,' he explained uncertainly, pointing straight ahead. 'So… so I guess I'll leave you here. Must prepare blankets and some food for you,' he turned around in relief that the worst part of his assignment was over and marched briskly up the path back to the camp.

Sophie watched his retreating figure with both annoyance and resignation, and she heaved a deep sigh. She was stuck here. No matter what she did or said they would not let her, well, let them go. Not until she talked to the snooty prat, their commander.

'It's okay, Sarah,' she said, trying hard to sound optimistic. 'Don't worry. We'll take care of our problem.' She took a firmer grip on the child's hand before stepping off the path into the dark thicket of twigs and leaves. _Just fucking great._

When they returned to the path, she lit the way that led to the stream. It must have been very close; she could hear a quiet murmur of water. Very cold water, no doubt. And the path downwards did not look inviting at all in a faint light of their torches; the forest along its both sides was like a black wall. Yet she was not afraid, not at all. Rather mesmerized by the view, as it brought back some memories.

'Are we going down to the stream?' Sarah asked uncertainly.

Sophie did not answer, still staring at the dark tunnel of trees in front of them with a strong, overwhelming feeling of déjà vu.

'I wouldn't go there.' A sudden voice from behind, both well-known and extremely irritating, made her almost drop her torch. But she turned around and pointed it right in Stiglitz's smirking face.

'Geez,' he winced with irritation. 'Be a nice girl and take it away.'

'What are you doing here?' she asked wryly in German, but she lowered the light to his chest.

'Disappointed? You have expected Donny?' He raised his eyebrow in mock surprise.

'What are you doing here?' she repeated in the coldest tone she could find. 'You want your jacket back?' Her hand went to the zip, but he stopped her, his fingers embracing her wrist for a while.

'Don't. If I wish you to show me your lingerie, I will choose a more convenient place, be sure. Easy!' he smirked at her glare. 'I came to see if everything's alright.'

'I'm perfectly alright. You should have worried about that half an hour ago!' she spat and he shrugged his shoulders impatiently before replying.

'Listen, I didn't know that Donowitz would try something like that. Or that he would try it so quickly. Normally his advances take a bit longer. He must have thought that I had kidnapped you straight from some German officers' club,' he concluded with amusement and this ignited her anger at once.

'This is why you brought me here? As entertainment for your moronic fellows?'

'You should have called me earlier. Before you had to slap him, for instance,' he pointed out, still irritatingly calm and at that moment she hated him more than ever before.

'So this is my fault? You shouldn't have left me with him in the first place!', she burst out, her attempts at self-control forgotten.

And only when her voice died away did she hear a sob from behind and she turned around immediately to see Sarah's twisted face, her mouth trembling, her eyes closed and her hands slapped over her ears. _Jesus._ She squatted down and gently took the child in her arms.

'It's alright, Sarah. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you,' she muttered in French.

Stiglitz crouched opposite, watching them both calm down, each for her own reasons.

'I don't know what this child has gone through, but probably it's not the best idea to yell in German in her presence,' he said in a quiet voice and as much as she wanted to snap at him she knew he was right and this awareness irritated her even more.

'Are you able to continue our little chat without yelling at me?' he asked matter-of-factly.

She did not answer, not trusting her voice yet, and was looking daggers at him for a long moment, before she finally nodded. A faint smile flickered on his lips.

'And if you don't want to scare the child to death I suggest you work on your facial expression. She might think you are kept here against your will. Like a prisoner.'

'I can hardly see any difference,' she replied coldly, careful not to make her voice sound alarming to Sarah.

'If you were my prisoner, Natalia, I would tie your hands. And I would remember to gag you in the first place,' he smiled. Really smiled. 'And I would definitely rip your dress myself. You know, I have a certain reputation in this squad I must live up to.'

She snorted with laughter, quite involuntarily in fact, but he grinned broadly in response.

'If I knew that would crease you up, I would have tried it earlier.'

'Tried what?'

'Why, tying you up, of course,' he chuckled and she rolled her eyes.

'Let's go,' he touched her shoulder. 'You can put the child to sleep in my tent.'

'Funny,' she smiled wryly. 'You told me we would come back soon and now it looks as if we are staying here for supper.'

'I would talk rather about an overnight stay,' he chuckled softly. 'Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that the lieutenant seems intrigued by you and whatever story you can tell him. He called the officers' meeting in your honour. You should feel proud of yourself.'

She shook her head impatiently. 'You know I don't want to be here at all. I have my own mission to complete.'

'Oh, I'm sure you have,' he said, his voice almost patronizing. Almost but not evidently. 'However,' he continued with a smile, 'sometimes another, let's say, additional or more challenging opportunity presents itself and you can't simply ignore it. We are in need of a reliable contact to inform us about Nazi movements in this area. I recommended you for this job.'

'What?' She snorted in disbelief. 'You must be crazy.'

He gave a laugh. 'That's precisely what they say I am.'

And she believed him.

'Let's move,' he suggested again. 'There's not much time left before the officers' party,' he smiled.

'You mean before the interrogation,' she corrected him irritably and he chuckled.

'Don't be melodramatic. You should look at it objectively. It's more like a job interview.'

'Job interview! That's a good one.' she mocked.

'Aldo would simply like to check if you are really on the same side.'

'And I'm supposed to convince him, right?' she sneered.

Stiglitz studied her for a while before he answered, and this time he was not smiling at all. 'If I can advise you something, you should show some consideration for the lieutenant's nerves. He's really doing his best. I guess the whole situation must be very difficult for him.'

'Difficult for _him_?' she almost laughed, but he gave her a piercing look.

'You'd better not push him too far.' It was both a suggestion and a threat and her smile faded.

'Suppose I agree…' she started after a while.

'Suppose?' He raised an eyebrow.

'Suppose I consider this option. Becoming your contact and so on. But I want some answers before.'

'What answers?' His voice was suddenly tight, controlled.

'You owe me an explanation.'

'Really?,' he raised an eyebrow again. 'Do _I_ really owe anything to you?'

'How did you find out about me then, in Warsaw?' she hastened to ask her most urgent question, but she failed to catch him off guard.

'Next question, _please_,' he smirked.

'I must know. I want to.'

His smile faded as he raised himself. 'Believe me, you don't want to know. Let's go back to the camp. No need to go to the stream. I told Utivich to bring you some warm water so you can even take a bath before the party.'

'Sure,' she grimaced, standing up and helping the child to rise. And she followed him back to the camp, her hand resting reassuringly on Sarah's soldier and her thoughts still on the unanswered question.

When they reach the clearing, she saw Utivich sitting by the fire with three other Aldo's soldiers, including the one who had held her hands on Donowitz's request. They were having their evening meal and talking animatedly, but became quiet at the sight of her. Or maybe it was Stiglitz and his nasty reputation. They shot glances in her direction and then she felt their stares on her back, but none of them said a single word.

Stiglitz was the first one to enter his tent and he lit three small lanterns before inviting them in. The tent was bigger than she expected, but still with the three of them in close proximity, it seemed crowded. And cramped, especially with a large makeshift bed covered with several blankets. Sarah jumped on it with a squeal of delight and lay down, smiling. And for a moment, with her face brightened up, she was once again what she really was. A seven-year-old child.

Sophie pulled down her dress before she perched on the edge of the bed, and she looked around. Utivich had carried out his task almost to perfection, taking into account unfavourable conditions he had to work in. There were some sandwiches on a chipped yet clean plate and two mugs with what must have been tea, all placed carefully on a wooden crate. And there was a bowl of water next to it, accompanied by a piece of soap in a metal box and a cloth that, she guessed, served as a towel. She saw her purse someone had brought here from the truck and she opened it to take out a comb. Everything was inside. Except for her pistol and documents, but right now it did not really surprise her.

Stiglitz leaned over a brown rucksack, looking for something inside and he turned around exactly when she was staring at him absent-mindedly.

'Here,' he handed her what looked like a bundle of dark cotton fabric.

'What is it?' she asked suspiciously.

'One of my shirts and Utivich's spare pants. Clean. Although we rarely do the ironing here.'

'I don't need them!'

'Like you didn't want my jacket before. Do I really need Donowitz to make you accept the gift?' he smirked and she wanted to throw the clothes at him. She glared at him instead.

And he grinned. 'You wouldn't like to go to the officers' party in torn clothes. Just another friendly advice.'

His gaze moved to her stockings, now completely ruined after her forest walks.

'Ah, and I like you better in your natural hair,' he added casually and gave a short laugh when she froze in surprise.

'So see you soon, Natalia.' He smiled. 'I would say you can take your time, but believe me the lieutenant hates being kept waiting longer than necessary.'

'Wait,' she protested before he turned to leave.

'What is it? You wanna help in changing your clothes?' he presented his usual smirk, but she did not even pay attention to his expression.

'What was the military action your commander talked about?' she asked, her tension barely concealed.

'Oh, this.' His face twisted into a sly smile. 'You can't expect me to ruin the lieutenant's surprise. No need to worry,' he added hastily when she scowled. 'He will tell you this story himself. And I really should go now,' he added but instead of leaving he was looking at her with a smile she could not figure out.

'You have come a long way to get to this point,' he finally said.

'So have you,' she replied and his smile disappeared at once.

'You have no idea.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **As before.

As always,** many thanks **to people who have reviewed this story, added it to favourites, alerted it etc. Constructive criticism welcome as usual ;-)

It took me a bit longer that I'd planned, but** Chapter 6** is finally ready. Have a good time.

**xxxxxxxxxx**

**6. The condition**

'The girl's alright?,' Aldo asked when Stiglitz _finally_ entered his tent.

'Yes, sir,' Hugo sat down next to him. 'Getting ready for the officers' party.'

The lieutenant raised his eyebrow. 'She'd better hurry up.'

He reached out for a bottle of wine that stood on a crate behind him and poured a generous portion into a metal mug. Stiglitz accepted it gladly, muttered his thanks and glanced across the tent at Donowitz, who looked rather sulky as he was sitting by the entrance, smoking a cigarette. Probably his conversation with the commander had not gone exactly as he intended.

'So let's collect the facts before she comes.' Aldo's gaze shifted to Wicki, then to Donny, before it stopped at Stiglitz. 'You've told me that you met her in Warsaw two years ago and saved her pretty ass from Krauts.'

'That's right, sir. From Gestapo. Her and her brother.'

'And you've said they were working for the Polish Resistance?' Aldo prompted, slightly irritated that he had to get information out of his own soldier instead of receiving a complete report at once. Honestly, in any other case he would have roared at the man in question to take him to task, but, well, Stiglitz had never been much of a talker. And his sanity was debatable.

'I'm sure of that,' Stiglitz replied, no hesitation in his voice. 'Probably the Home Army, as they call themselves,' he added and Donny shot a look at him, his attention held and any sulks temporarily forgotten. Wicki, on the other hand, did not seem surprised at all, as if he had heard this story before.

'How did she get here?' was the lieutenant's another question.

'No idea.'

'And what does she do? Helping Jews?'

'It looks like that.'

'So if you played a knight in fuckin' shinin' armour for her, I guess she should be grateful, right?'

Stiglitz smirked. 'Don't know, sir. Not grateful enough to even thank me.'

'She didn't thank you for saving her ass?' Aldo frowned.

'Told me not to expect her to thank a German.' Stiglitz exchanged amused glances with Wicki.

'Naughty girl,' the lieutenant fell into a reverie for a while. 'Are you sure we can trust her?'

'Ninety-nine per cent.' Stiglitz's lips twisted into another smirk. 'Better to save this one per cent for her nasty temper.'

'Anything else you wanna add before we talk to her?', Aldo inquired.

Stiglitz shook his head. 'Not really.'

'Have you fucked her?', Donny cut in, his eyes glittering with curiosity, but the question hung in the air like a suffocating stench.

Wicki rolled his eyes at Donowitz's obvious, and not very much surprising, lack of subtlety. Aldo grimaced, but did not intervene. And Stiglitz just looked into Donny's eyes, unsmiling. And Donowitz, Wicki thought, must have actually hit himself in the head, as he was evidently looking for trouble.

'I mean… not now, but ever…'

Hugo just stared unblinking at him and his expression made Wicki strain his muscles in case he had to stop a highly probable fight, but the Bear Jew eventually dropped his stare to the ground.

'Never mind…'

'Damnit, Donowitz', the lieutenant said in evident disgust. 'It's the officers' meeting, not your night chat with Hirschberg. Don't bring it up again.'

'What?' Donowitz asked irritably. 'I was only trying to find out if she can have any additional reasons to help us.'

Aldo snorted. 'Like that…what was her name? _Fabienne_? You got stuck in her bedroom for two days and she still alerted the Krauts.'

'It was only when I told her I was leaving,' Donny explained in a grim voice. He was piqued by the lieutenant's imputation more than he wanted to admit, his male pride hurt and bleeding.

'Whatever,' Aldo smiled contemptuously. 'Fucking and trusting, son, don't necessarily go together, believe me. I didn't trust any woman I fucked, my children's mother included.'

'Maybe it depends on the woman, sir,' Wicki pointed out and the lieutenant's mouth shut before he decided to continue his little lecture. He somehow lost his train of thought.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Sarah had almost fallen asleep in the middle of a fairy tale, but when Sophie removed the last hairpin and could finally pull off the wig, the child's eyes were wide open again and a gasp of surprise followed.

'You thought it was my own hair, didn't you?' she asked with amusement, tousling her soft wavy brownish strands that barely reached her shoulders.

'Yeah,' Sarah admitted, looking at her critically. 'You looked like a princess.'

_An Aryan princess_, Sophie thought and suppressed a chuckle.

'But I like you now, too,' the child added after a while.

'That's very nice. Wanna another fairy tale?'

'Yes, please.'

'OK. But close your eyes. You really should sleep now.' She took the comb and started to tidy up her hair while spinning another tale, her voice soft, melodious and soothing. And she was not even halfway through the story when the child's breathing became slow and regular. So she broke off and sat in silence for a while, lost in thoughts.

She hoped Paul had kept his promise to inform François about the _complications_ and her very probable, _now sure as hell_, late arrival. She knew he would pass on the message to her family. Still, if she came back home in the morning, _or later_, it would mean a sleepless night for at least two people. And both of them would be wondering whether or not she had been shot.

She sighed and reached for the clothes Stiglitz had left. The pants Utivich had lent her must have been black originally, but now they were faded and worn-out as if used for generations of soldiers. Not that it really mattered.

Stiglitz's shirt was dark green and, quite appropriately, it smelled of pine needles. And for a moment she moved it closer to her face, inhaling the smell, before she realized what the hell she was doing. _I must be really tired_, she thought when she was changing her clothes hurriedly. She folded her torn dress and covered Sarah with another blanket, but there was nothing else to delay her. She was ready.

As she had expected, the soldiers sitting by the fire went silent for a while when she went out of the tent. Hirschberg was the first to digest the view in front of him and come to constructive conclusions.

'I don't trust her. She changes her scalps too easily,' he said loudly enough for her to hear, but she ignored both his words and wary laughs that followed, and she headed straight for Aldo's tent, hesitating only for a while before she heard the invitation drawled from inside.

If the lieutenant was astonished by the evident change in her appearance, he did an excellent job masking his surprise even more than Wicki, who raised an eyebrow as though he was wondering who the hell she was. Not to mention Donowitz, who was gaping at her open-mouthed.

Stiglitz just looked at her with no surprise, his expression smug and a faint smile on his lips.

The lieutenant cleared his throat. 'We're glad you decided to join us.'

'As if I had any choice,' she muttered.

'Sit down.' He pointed at a blanket spread between Donowitz and Wicki and her mouth slightly twitched. The lieutenant's tent was of course much bigger than the one that belonged to Stiglitz, but she still did not like the idea of sitting so close to them all. Especially next to the one who had attacked her. Especially when the only escape route was blocked by him. Especially in a stuffy, claustrophobic area filled with cigarette smoke and the stale stench of sweat, gunpowder and coffee.

Yet she obeyed with no comment at all.

'D'you wanna wine?' Aldo gestured to the bottle and she shook her head.

'You wanna check if it's not poisoned?' she asked casually.

'We know it's not,' Aldo grinned. 'Otherwise we would have lost Hirschberg half an hour ago.'

'What if it's a slow acting poison?' she asked again, now the teasing edge more evident in her voice.

'Then the benefactor and his helpers will meet a slow and painful death,' he explained cheerfully and she smiled, quite unexpectedly.

'Your English is decent,' he drawled approvingly, but there was a note of suspicion hidden behind the praise.

'I had a good teacher.'

'No doubt. I must say I'm impressed by your linguistic skills. You also speak French and German, right?'

'She can even yell in German,' Donowitz laughed out loud, but fell silent under the lieutenant's glare.

'Coming back to business,' Aldo's eyes met hers and this time he was deadly serious, 'I think we'll begin with introductions.'

'I thought we had already done this part,' she frowned. 'You wanna tell me more about yourself?'

'Oh, I'm sure _I_ don't need to introduce myself again,' he gave her a tight-lipped smile.

'That's right, lieutenant,' she confirmed.

'You know Stiglitz and Wicki.'

'Your merciless killers,' she teased, but he ignored her tone.

'And you've already met my second in command, Sergeant Donny Donowitz.'

'I had the _pleasure_.' She looked askance at the man on her left and he replied with an unfriendly glance.

'Still angry? Well, he promised to be on his best behaviour.'

'Really appreciate it.'

'Glad to hear that,' the lieutenant replied casually, but she had a feeling that there was some tension hidden behind this nonchalance. 'I was afraid you were going to be difficult.'

'Mr. Raine, I will answer your every question. Reasonable question.' She smiled sweetly and he mimicked the smile. 'On one condition.'

Aldo's eyes narrowed at once. 'Only one?' he asked. 'Kind of you. Thought you would make plenty of conditions.'

But she held his gaze and he finally gave an impatient snort.

'Alright. What do you want?' he barked.

'Not much. One answer I've already asked for.' And she looked over at Stiglitz, who smirked understandingly.

'You're really stubborn.'

'Family trait,' she smiled wryly, her eyes locked with his, as if they had been here alone, Aldo thought. And it was not the first time he had noticed this.

'What answer d'you want?' he asked grimly and she looked at him immediately.

'I only want to know how Stiglitz managed to warn me about Gestapo, how he knew where to find me.'

Aldo nodded and exhaled sharply. He really had no time for that rubbish. 'D'you wanna answer this, Hugo?' he asked, not averting his sharp eyes from her face, but the damned wench did not even blink. And she grinned nicely when Stiglitz agreed. So nicely that the lieutenant thought it his duty to wipe that grin off her face.

'Slow down a bit, my lady. This can wait. We've not even finished the first chapter. Introductions, remember?' he smiled at her confusion.

'You know who I am,' she frowned, not sure what he wanted from her.

'Yeah, but there is still a little to say. Your names, for instance.'

She shrugged. 'I've already told you my name. No, wait, Stiglitz did and I confirmed it.'

'Yeah, yeah,' he nodded again, 'you did. But what about the other name you borrowed from your cousin? I'd like to know the details of this exchange.'

'It's a bit complicated.'

'No doubt,' he admitted. 'Go on. But try to keep the story short.'

'My cousin moved to Switzerland with her parents when she was five. No neighbour and practically no one here knew her other than a small child. And no one knows that she died.'

'How did she die?'

'Suicide. A love affair that came to an end,' she said with reluctance and Donny mumbled something dismissively, but she did not even pay attention to him. 'The family wanted to avoid a scandal, so they did not spread any stories about her death to their relatives in France. Only my grandma knows about this. And in fact it was her idea that I should pretend to be Sophie.'

'Very clever indeed,' the lieutenant smiled, but neither the smile nor the compliment really reached his eyes. 'Why can't you use your real name?'

'Because Gestapo are hunting for me.' She smirked at their sudden attention and Donowitz's sceptical expression. 'Or at least they did last year. I came to France under a false name, but I couldn't use it here either. It was too risky. So I needed a new identity that would make sense and let me stay at my grandma's place without arousing suspicions.'

'And what's that French name again?' Aldo asked calmly, but Stiglitz knew his commander well enough to think at once that it was the calm before the storm.

'Sophie Larmount,' she replied.

The lieutenant smiled widely like a man whose own suspicions had just proved to be justified. 'That's a very nice story you've told us. Except for one detail that does not match the rest.'

He reached to his pocket and took out something she could not see well. Yet she was absolutely positive what it was.

'The passport we've found in your purse was issued in the name of Sophie von Eckstein. How can you explain this?'

She did her best not to roll her eyes. 'I've told you I'm staying in my grandma's house and we don't want to arouse suspicions. You've met me with a Jewish child. How long do you think it would take a German patrol to find Sophie Larmount if they started to suspect something?'

None of them answered. 'And believe me this _von_ in front of the surname dispels most doubts. At least in the case of ordinary soldiers.'

The lieutenant studied the document he held in disbelief.

'But it's an authentic passport,' he said.

'No,' she explained gently as if he had been a child contradicting the obvious. 'It's a perfectly forged passport.'

'Who did it?' he asked, but she smiled and shook her head.

'That question goes beyond the introductions. I can answer it later.'

He looked at her in a strange way 'And what was that masquerade for?' he gestured to her hair.

'For exactly the same reason. Camouflage. Work uniform, you may say.'

'I'd like to know the details of your work.'

'Sure,' she nodded in consent. 'But we have a deal. Now I want my story, Mr. Raine.'

For a moment she was sure he would yell at her, but he probably thought better of it and glanced at Stiglitz instead. 'Ready to answer her question?'

Hugo slowly nodded, but for a while she had a feeling that he was avoiding her gaze.

'My commander sent me with an invitation for dinner for a Gestapo officer, Schultz.' Stiglitz's voice suddenly became tense and he broke off, his stare moving to a point above her head.

'_Come in,' the voice he heard was cheerful, almost amused, and it absolutely did not prepare him for the sight he faced when he opened the door. There was a body on the floor, a distorted shape stretched on a stained, dirty blanket like a broken doll clad in torn, stained rags. _

_It was a girl. Her face was relatively intact, except for her bleeding lips and a terrible scar running across her cheek, half-hidden under a strand of black curly hair. The rest was a complete mess of cuts, gaping wounds and blood, both fresh and dried, smeared on her naked, terribly bruised thighs and arms. At first he thought she was dead._

_Schultz was sitting on a chair next to the girl, observing her panting for breath. _

_Hugo watched the whole scene with a perfectly impassive expression; he had learned to hide his emotions and refrain from comment a long time ago, and the reminders of those lessons were still visible on his back. It was wartime, for God's sake. He had seen worse than that before. But the view of this massacred body thrown on the floor in the bright room flooded with sunshine made his throat go dry and he clenched his fists painfully._

_Schultz suddenly gazed away from the girl and looked at him questioningly and Stiglitz needed a few seconds to remember why he had come here at all._

'_Unteroffizier Hugo Stiglitz,' he introduced himself in a strained voice._

'_Yes?' Schultz's pale blue eyes studied his face carefully, as if in a search of any signs of weakness. Or compassion. Or disapproval._

'_I have an invitation for dinner for you, sir. From_ _Oberleutnant Welte.'_

'_Ah, how nice of Fritz to remember me. Put it on my desk, soldier. I'm a bit busy now,' he gestured to the girl with a smirk and Hugo gave a salute before he turned around in relief. _

_There was a photograph on the desk, depicting two girls in what must have been a park. The first one, a pretty girl with long dark curls, or rather what was left of her, was now lying on the floor, choking with her own blood. The other one was just smiling at him from the photo._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **As before.

**Many t****hanks **to people who have reviewed this story (especially to GypsyWitchBaby – I like your comments very much), added it to favourites, alerted it or simply read it and are waiting for more. Constructive criticism welcome, nothing's changed here.

It took me even longer than before – life, job, and my daughter, who is addicted to hugging. But, finally, **Chapter 7** is ready.

**By way of explanation**: Strasse der Polizei is the name used by the Nazi for Szucha Avenue in Warsaw, where the Gestapo main office was located (the pronunciation of Szucha is something like 'shoe' + 'ha', more or less). Governor Frank mentioned later in the story is Hans Frank, the governor of the occupied Poland.

**Enjoy.**

**xxxxxxxxxx**

**7. The job interview**

'Stiglitz,' Aldo hissed impatiently. Honestly, when it came to weird behaviour like stopping in mid-sentence and staring vacantly into space, his German soldier was probably in his element. But psychopath or not, he should have known there was no time for a break. Especially when the number of questions his commander wanted to ask the girl had just increased dramatically and the whole night might not be enough to get all the answers from her. Not that he planned to keep questioning her till dawn, still the sooner the better.

The only advantage of Stiglitz's sudden reverie was that she was becoming more and more anxious and this in turn suited Aldo just fine. Better nervous than insolent.

'Stiglitz,' he repeated. 'Go on.'

This time Hugo's eyes moved to the lieutenant at once and although Aldo's voice still seemed distant, it shook him out of contemplation. Then he shot a look at Wicki and although he did not voice any request, the Austrian took a crumpled packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and handed it to him, which made Aldo wonder, not for the first time, when exactly that thread of understanding had been established between these two.

'I went to the Gestapo Headquarters in Strasse der Polizei,' Stiglitz finally returned to his story and his gaze moved to Sophie, who was observing him nervously, her eyes intense and dark.

'Szucha Avenue,' she corrected almost automatically, her voice strained as if the name itself carried a harbinger of nightmares.

'That's right,' Stiglitz confirmed after a while. 'I met a schoolmate there, a man I knew from Frankfurt. His name was Otto and he worked in the same department as the officer I was looking for. And he told me where to find Schultz.' He stopped for a moment to light a cigarette and took a long drag, but she waited patiently, trying to read from his features what was wrong. That something was wrong was sure as hell.

'When I reached the right room, there was an interrogation in progress. Schultz was interrogating a prisoner. A young woman you should know,' his eyes found hers again. 'Long black hair. Curly,' he added and that definitely hit a nerve, as her face visibly paled and her eyes widened. But she did not say a word, so he continued in a detached voice.

'She had been arrested three days before in an ordinary round-up. That's what Otto told me later. They caught about twenty people in a street and while they were being forced onto the truck, a man pulled out a gun and tried to escape. He killed two SS men before they shot him down. And that girl was unlucky to stand next to him, so they decided to check her.' Stiglitz paused again and for a moment he focused his attention on the cigarette and a puff of smoke he let out obscured his face for a while, but she did not gaze away from him.

'When they were searching her, they found several coded messages and two ID papers, presumably false. Enough to hand her over to the Gestapo. She also had a photograph of herself and another girl in a park. And you,' this time he met her eyes with no hesitation, 'were the other girl in the photo, so first they questioned her about you.' She nodded, shutting her eyes for a moment, and then gestured him to continue.

He looked at her for a while, ghastly images of what he had seen in the interrogation room twirling before his eyes, and when he started to speak again, his words were carefully chosen.

'Schultz was responsible for squeezing information out of her and he saw to it that she knew they meant business. They massacred her,' he added and Donowitz's eyes moved from Stiglitz to the girl and back.

'They wanted to kill her because of a stupid photo?' he snorted unbelievingly at the absurdity of what he had just heard.

'No.' Stiglitz gave him a hard stare. 'They _killed_ her because she was stubborn and refused to cooperate. She had been caught carrying incriminating evidence and it was obvious she worked for the Resistance. Schultz wanted her to give him names and addresses and her obstinacy infuriated him.' He stubbed out a cigarette in a rusty tin they used as an ashtray and as much as he wanted to avoid her eyes, he looked at Sophie again.

'Her name was Anna,' she said in a low voice, fighting a lump in her throat. 'We had no idea that Gestapo arrested her. We didn't have any contact at Szucha Avenue, any possibility to check if she was there.' She dropped her gaze to her hands, wondering how and when her nails had dug into her skin, leaving deep, bloody, crescent-shaped traces.

'Contact?' Aldo interrupted only to distract her. Granted, occasionally she irritated him to the core, but he could still muster the little empathy he possessed. And, more importantly, he did not really want either hysterics or madness in his tent.

She looked up at him. 'A bribed guard. Or a doctor forced by the German to examine their prisoners, to prepare them for another interrogation. Some of those doctors worked for us. If they had kept her in prison, we would have known it.'

'Was she a friend of yours? A relative?'

She nodded. 'A friend. When she disappeared, we had no clue. Three weeks later her family got a message from the prison. They…,' she hesitated momentarily, feeling the lump in her throat grow to the extent where talking was almost painful, 'they informed her parents that she died of typhoid and was buried in a mass grave.'

Stiglitz gave her an odd look that did not go unnoticed and she looked at him questioningly. He let out a frustrated sigh, fighting an internal battle. He could leave it unsaid. Yet he had promised her the truth. 'She had no chance to die of any disease. She didn't leave that room alive.'

She took a deep breath, fighting tears. But as much as she did not want them to see her crying, she eventually failed, feeling wet, cold trickles on her cheeks and she quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand. Donny, who was still sitting next to her, shifted uncomfortably, unsure whether or not he was expected, or _wanted_, to do something about this. Wicki, however, did not have such dilemmas and he poured the wine into the only clean mug left and passed it to her with a gentle smile.

And she accepted it, much to Aldo's relief. Out of all plagues in the world, a crying woman was the one the lieutenant found most treacherous, most difficult to deal with. Even if the tears were for effect only, which – as his own experience told him – happened quite often. But fake or not, they still made him feel helpless, the feeling he hated almost as much as the sense of guilt washing over him whenever he was forced to face streams of tears, most often accompanied by violent sobs that drilled holes in his brain. Something his ex-wife had mastered well. At least this one had the decency not to utter a sound in the process.

She raised the mug up to her lips and took a sip, then another, focusing on the taste. Then she looked at Stiglitz, trying to decipher from his impassive face if the hardest part was over.

'What was next?' Aldo asked for her.

'When I was still in Schultz's office Otto came to tell him they had your address.'

She looked at him absently. 'All the time we thought someone betrayed us,' she started, her voice a bit hoarse, but she cleared her throat and this helped a bit. 'We suspected a boy who'd joined my brother's squad two months before the Gestapo came to my house and arrested my mom. We didn't trust him. Later he was killed in an almost suicide mission he'd volunteered for. Only to prove us that we were wrong about him.'

Stiglitz sighed. 'But it wasn't your friend, Anna, either', he said, his voice confident. 'She told them nothing. Another prisoner they were interrogating recognized you from the photo and they checked that information.'

She gave him a hostile look. Right now she did not need any pity, any comforting lies to sweeten the pill she had already managed to swallow.

'This is what your friend from the Gestapo told you?' she asked sharply.

Stiglitz's eyes darkened with anger and somewhere behind her own cold fury she realized that he had never been that angry with her. In fact, he had never seemed to be angry with her at all.

'He wasn't my friend,' he growled. 'I only knew him. And you are probably still alive because I knew him,' he added curtly.

Aldo exchanged glances with Donowitz and in his second in command's eyes he saw a reflection of exactly the same thoughts that came across his mind. Of course, they both knew perfectly well where Stiglitz loyalties lay. He had proved it beyond all doubt. Proved it eagerly, so to say, and right now he was one of them. Apart from Hirschberg's moment of weakness, no one in the squad doubted or questioned Hugo's commitment. Yet, it still seemed odd to listen to his memories from the other side.

'He told you my address?' the girl asked him incredulously, her tone harsh, but devoid of hostility.

'No,' Stiglitz smirked nastily. 'He was a loyal German officer. He wasn't forced to join the Gestapo, it was his own choice. And believe me, he would never reveal any crucial information to me. What he told me was nothing more than boasting. I encouraged him to boast and he rose to the bait. He wanted to impress me,' his lips curled in a scornful smile. 'But no, he didn't give me your address.' He went quiet for a moment, his thoughts coming back again to the interrogation room.

Funny, the decision he had made in a gloomy corridor of the Gestapo Headquarters had been one of the hardest in his whole life, taken in a long internal battle he had both won and lost. After nearly an hour of reasoning with the soldier in him. Convincing that soldier. Appealing to his conscience. Stunning him with visions of another blood-covered body stretched on the floor in the same interrogation room he had just left. All those visions came back to him even now. But after warning the girl, _the enemy_, he had been able to come back to his former life almost untouched. No real harm done. It was another crucial decision made much later that had changed his life irrevocably, with no return ever possible. Yet in that case it had taken him mere seconds to decide what to do.

He looked at Sophie again. 'I had to invent an excuse to be left alone in his room for a while so that I could have a look at the papers on his desk. It took me a while to find your house and for your mother I came too late.'

She nodded, dropping her eyes to the ground for a while, before she decided to look at him again.

'I couldn't help your friend, either,' he said, an unusual tone in his voice, though his expression showed no emotion at all.

'I know,' she admitted reluctantly. 'Why did you help me?'

'Let's stop here.' Aldo sent her a smile that was meant to be pleasant, but she only found it gloating. 'We've agreed on one condition, one question, remember? And it's already answered. If you want to know more, I suggest you ask Hugo later. I'm sure you both can reach agreement.' He smirked at her evident discontentment. 'Now let's come back to the main topic. Cigarette?' He passed her Wicki's packet.

'Thank you.' She took one and, to her surprise, it was Donowitz who gave her a light. And although the glance he cast was still far from friendly, it was not hostile, either.

'So,' Aldo started again, 'you were in the Resistance just like your friend, right?'

'That's right. _Polnische banditen_,' she peeked at Stiglitz, but he only smiled faintly at the taunt.

'What exactly did you do?'

She took a long drag, surprised how good the cigarette felt after months of abstinence.

'Before they arrested my mum I was a courier. I carried coded messages. Guns. Grenades. Orders. Papers.'

'Papers?'

'False documents. German passes,' she explained.

'And after they took your mother?'

'I got promoted,' she gave a short, mirthless laugh.

'In what sense?' the lieutenant raised his eyebrow.

'Adam and me…'

'Who's Adam?' the lieutenant cut in smoothly.

'My brother. We were moved to a special unit, a death squad. We executed traitors, Gestapo informers, snitches.'

Aldo eyed her sceptically. 'You mean _you_ shot them?'

But she responded to his dubious gaze with a smirk. 'Only as a last resort. Usually my brother did. Or …', she hesitated for a while, 'or someone else.' She gazed away for a while, but then her eyes found his again. 'But if you wanna ask if I can use the gun, the answer is positive, lieutenant. The pistol you took from my purse wasn't there only for decoration. By the way, can I have it back?'

The lieutenant's lips stretched in an almost friendly smile. 'In the morning. You seem dangerous enough without a gun,' he said and Donny snorted, but she ignored the teasing.

Aldo looked at her again. 'So it was a death squad you were in? Is that why the Gestapo wanted you?'

'That's right,' she admitted.

'A risky job,' Wicki noticed politely, smiling.

'Very,' she returned the smile. 'There were … complications. Too many witnesses, unexpected patrols. Or the risk was too big. That we could kept it going for almost seven months was a miracle.'

'Greta Keller,' Stiglitz interrupted and she flinched, locking her eyes on his immediately. 'Was it your handiwork?'

That took her by surprise, but she nodded, though hesitantly.

'Colonel Raddke's mistress.' He chuckled softly. 'I must say my respect for you has increased even more, mademoiselle.'

'Who was that?' the lieutenant asked.

'A Gestapo informer,' she explained. 'A very professional informer. Many people were arrested and killed because of her. She was closely guarded, so my brother really couldn't come near her to do the job. But I caught her in a theatre.'

'Wearing more or less the same uniform you showed us here,' he added matter-of-factly, and a smug smile flashed across his face at her expression. 'No wonder they didn't suspect you until it was too late for Keller.'

She watched him for a long moment, wondering how many surprises like that he was still hiding. 'You're well informed, Herr Stiglitz,' she finally said, the mocking note subtle in her voice and his smirk widened.

'Let's say I'm clever enough to put two and two together. And more precisely, certain facts and rumours. I know Raddke swore it was on his honour to get all of you. He was angry.'

She gave him a hard stare. 'Angry? The German shot down fifty people in revenge for Greta Keller. Much more than they normally executed for the German soldiers we killed.'

He did not gaze away, but his smirk faded. 'And you disappeared from Warsaw,' he stated.

'Did you?' Aldo asked briefly, glancing at Stiglitz with a strange expression. His German sergeant became unusually talkative around the girl and it did not escape his attention. Perhaps that could be useful. Somehow.

'The Gestapo had my description and quite a good identikit picture of one of the boys.' Her mouth twitched slightly. 'Our commanding officer transferred us to Krakow.'

'Where your activity also caused quite a lot of trouble.' Stiglitz interrupted again. 'Not to mention right under Governor Frank's nose.'

She looked at him searchingly for a long moment. 'You must have met that _schoolmate_ of yours quite often,' she commented wryly.

'Otto was a valuable source of information,' he admitted, his expression strange for a while. 'But then I had no idea _you_ were that criminal he talked about.'

'Why did you move to France?' Aldo asked, still digesting what he had just heard.

She looked at him hesitantly. 'My fiancé was shot in an abortive mission.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.'

She smiled sadly. 'At least he died instantly. And my brother wanted me to leave. He insisted.'

'Because of your fiancé's death?'

'That was one of the reasons. But I guess he simply wanted to protect me. He always did. And the Gestapo were hard on our heels.'

'How did you manage to leave Poland?' Aldo asked, and this time there was more curiosity than suspicion to his voice.

'There was a man who worked for us. A forger. Before the war he'd been in prison for forgery, but when the German came he went all patriotic and sometimes helped the Resistance. My brother contacted him to make really good papers for me and our aunt…'

'Aunt?' the lieutenant cut in.

'My father's sister. I arrived here with her. She helped us in Krakow and the Gestapo decided to check on her.'

'I see. So your forger agreed to make the papers for you both?'

'Yes. On one condition,' she smiled. 'He wanted us to take him to France. Pretend a family. Travelling on his own could be risky, but as a German-born family we had no problem.'

'Is he also living at your grandma's place?'

'No. In Paris. But we stay in touch. By the way, my passport is his work.'

'So this damn good forger is now in Paris.' Aldo drawled pensively. 'And you're in the Resistance again.'

'I couldn't just sit on my grandma's porch and wait for the war to end.'

He laughed. 'I don't blame you. And you're conspiring with this guy from the tavern.'

'Paul is my contact. Like Emma your men have already met. There's also a courier from Paris and he arrives at the tavern approximately every two weeks. More frequently in case of emergency.'

'Like what?'

'Like someone who must change their address. Or identity. Or disappear with no trace at all.'

'Like this Jewish child you've brought here?'

'Precisely.'

'Are you hiding Jews in your grandmother's house?' he asked in a tone that could seem casual, if it weren't for what he was asking about.

She snorted. 'What kind of question is it?'

The lieutenant gave her a somewhat lopsided smile. 'Why, just a normal question between two business partners who need to trust each other. So?'

She glanced at Stiglitz to check if he had any surprise to interject, but he only gave her a smile, so her gaze returned to the lieutenant.

'Seven of them are living with us. A family of five. And twins. We can't take in more if we want to avoid unnecessary attention. There are also people who stay for a few days before we move them further.'

He nodded understandingly. 'What about the child? Will she stay with you?'

She sighed. 'I'm not sure. There's a woman in Lyons who agreed to take Sarah in, but we must wait for her final decision and it may take a few days.'

'I see,' the lieutenant said, his eyes inscrutable. 'And where's your brother now?'

She shrugged. 'In the woods near Krakow. Partisan like you. If he's still alive.'

'Any news from him?'

'I can't hardly phone him or send him a letter.'

Aldo studied her in silence for a long moment and although his expression did not betray anything she suddenly realized that the verdict was coming.

'Alright, _Sophie_,' he finally said. 'Now I suppose it's time we discussed details of our cooperation.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **As before.

**Great thanks **– as always – to people who have reviewed this story, added it to favourites, alerted it and read it. I wish you a nice, sunny, crazy, unforgettable holiday.

**Chapter 8 **is all for you – some Sophie-Stiglitz private moments and some glimpses at the boys at work ;-). I hope you will like it. There is still a lot before us.

**Enjoy.**

**8. Blood**

It was well past midnight when Sophie came back to Stiglitz's tent, her temples throbbing wildly as the first twinge of headache began to clutch them without mercy, and she welcomed the dark, quiet and cold interior like a long-awaited shelter. She felt exhausted. Both the officers' meeting and the final conversation she had with Aldo seemed to have drawn most of her vital forces, whereas the lieutenant had been indefatigable for the whole evening. But he was probably used to night working sessions. Or, more likely, his unnatural vigour had something to do with the contents of a small box he used quite frequently.

Sarah was sleeping soundly, cuddling the doll Paul had given to her, and she only moved once in her sleep, when the woman's hand gently stroked her cheek. Sophie smiled to her reaction before an involuntary shiver reminded her that she was cold. Very cold, in fact. The temperature dropped even further and it was drizzling, so even the small distance she had to cover from the lieutenant's tent left her hair and clothes beaded with tiny mist.

There were only two blankets left after she had tucked Sarah in and she doubted if it will be enough to keep her warm. But the prospect of going outside and trying to find Utivich, _whoever_, to ask him for more blankets was not alluring at all. So she just slipped off her shoes and crawled into bed, wrapping the blankets tightly around her in a rather unsuccessful attempt to preserve some warmth.

She lay on her side, facing the child and for a while she was thinking of Stiglitz's recent story and Anna's terrible end. And the vision of her friend's mutilated body thrown on the floor of some gloomy room made a lump in her throat return and she squeezed her eyes shut, wondering what she could have done to prevent it. But she fell asleep before she even managed to finish this now useless thought and woke up some time later to the feeling of both biting cold and someone's presence behind her. She turned around before she even opened her eyes, an adrenaline rush immediately wiping off any remains of her sleep, and a black shape crouching at the foot of the bed moved as well, as if it wanted to prove that it was not a figment of her imagination, nor a part of the dream she could not remember well. But it was only after the faint light of the lantern illuminated the interior of the tent that her conjectures proved correct. _Stiglitz_.

'My apologies, mademoiselle,' he said with no real remorse either on his face nor in his voice. 'It wasn't my intention to wake you up. Not my fault you're such a light sleeper,' he noticed in a conversational tone, sitting on the bed with his back turned to her and for a while he seemed to be occupied in unzipping his jacket. But he looked at her over his shoulder and smiled almost nicely. 'Now I guess you can return to your dream.'

She snorted and got up instead, casting a quick glance at Sarah, who was still fast asleep, unaware of everything around her, and she was dreaming what probably was a pleasant dream, judging by a peaceful expression on her face. Unusually peaceful, Sophie thought, before she turned her attention to Stiglitz again.

'What are you doing here?' she asked distrustfully, watching him take off his jacket and throw it carelessly onto the rucksack.

He smirked. 'Forgot it? It's my tent.'

She grimaced. As if she needed any reminders of where she was. 'You told me you'd be staying on watch,' she said accusingly, watching him take out his gun and put it away.

'That's right,' he confirmed eagerly. 'And I was, but the lieutenant got Kagan to replace me.'

'Why?'

'Keep your voice down,' he said calmly. 'You'll wake up the child.'

'Why are you here?' she asked frostily, careful not to raise her voice too much.

'Cause I'm tired and going to get some sleep before dawn,' he explained, raising his brow as if she had been a bit slow at this time of the night, but the corners of his mouth twitched in a suppressed smile. 'Will you ever stop asking?'

'Are you going to sleep _here_?' Her eyes moved unbelievingly to the space beside her.

'And where else should I sleep if not here?' he mocked surprise. 'If you are so much disturbed by this fact, I'm sure you can find accommodation in Donowitz's tent. Or you can ask the lieutenant to put you up. Most likely he won't mind. The night's getting pretty cold.'

She scowled at him and he chuckled softly, ready to bring it all a little further, to provoke her irritation just a little more, to enjoy it, to taste it like a good nightcap.

'I don't understand your problem. You had no objection to harassing me in the tavern yesterday and now you are going to make a fuss about us sharing a bed.'

'I didn't…' she started at once, but stopped irresolutely in mid-sentence.

'Yes,' he admitted, smirking. 'It wasn't you. It was Sophie. But the question is which Sophie it was? The one you're pretending to be or the one that is pretended by the one you're pretending? I'm still wondering which of you, girls, is responsible for molesting me,' he gave her a crooked smile. 'You'd be an excellent example to illustrate Dr Freud's theories.'

'You've read his works?' she asked in mild surprise as he had not struck her as a connoisseur of this kind of literature. Literature definitely forbidden in his country. Unless he wanted to find some scientific explanation for his own problems.

'I have. But don't change the subject,' he insisted, before turning his back to her again and beginning to untie his shoelaces with slow, methodical movements.

She snorted. 'You know that what happened in the tavern was a part of the plan…,' she started and went silent at a sudden memory of what had actually happened there and when she began speaking again, her tone was slightly irritated. 'And it was you that…'

'I didn't complain,' he interrupted, turning around to look at her and she remained silent, observing his face with the same dose of attention he was giving her at the moment. But as much as she wanted to win this staring contest, she gazed away for a while, making him smile.

'You used to wear plaits,' he said eventually, taking her by surprise, probably not for the last time that night.

'It was two years ago,' she shrugged as if he had been talking about some ancient times and he smirked, but this time it was more to himself.

'Oh, I'm sure two years can be a long time, Natalia,' he agreed, looking at her intensely, his eyes piercing as if he wanted to see through her and for a while she felt caught in this gaze, unable to avert her eyes.

'Stop calling me that,' she finally broke the charm.

'When I met you, your name was Natalia, so let me have the privilege of addressing you by your real name. At least when we are alone,' he smirked suggestively.

She yanked one of her blankets and threw it at him with irritation. 'Goodnight,' she said, lying down on the bed again and turning her back to him.

'Hope it'll be a good one,' he admitted, pulling his boots off, but she ignored his comment, clenching her teeth, and trying to hold back her anger. She almost flinched when he finally put out the lantern and slipped into the bed behind her. _Too close._

He lay down on his side, facing her back barely visible in the darkness and a faint aroma of her perfume mixed with cigarette smoke hit his nostrils, immediately bringing back some memories. Memories so remote and vague that they almost seemed unreal. A dimly lit café with a jazz band concert and people – whose faces he had never been able to see well – clapping enthusiastically to the rhythm of the song. A half-empty wine glass with a smear of burgundy lipstick. A woman's laughter so loud that for a while it drowned the music out. His fingers brushing Erica's skin when he was fighting with the fastening of the necklace. Erica…

He exhaled sharply, trying to chase these memories away back to where their belonged and, surprisingly, it worked, but the girl in front of him shuddered, alarmed by the sound, and that eventually reminded him where he was. He stared at her back until he could almost see its outline in the dark and she shuddered again as if she could feel his gaze on her skin.

It had been a long time since he had been so close to a woman and for a while he was lying motionless, trying to distract himself from inevitable thoughts that were crossing his mind. Then he covered them both with his blanket and when it met with no response from her, he moved closer and his hand settled upon her waist as if by accident. This time the reaction was as immediate and strong as he had expected and she pushed his hand away even more fiercely than necessary, but he pulled her against him with one swift movement, his arm trapping her arm and wrapping around her waist strongly enough to hold her still. Nearly still.

'What the hell are you doing?' she hissed furiously, trying to free herself with no success. The blanket restricted her movement and his grip was firm, almost painful. And this did not look like a bad joke.

'No need to fume,' he whispered in her ear and she froze to the feeling of sudden panic, but he only chuckled, amused by her reaction. 'I'm not trying anything. It's been cold outside, that's all.'

She did not answer but resumed struggling with all her might and he smiled before tightening his grip a bit.

'Easy. You'd better stop wriggling and sleep. Unless _you _are planning something.' He chuckled darkly when she stiffened. 'I may be tired but if you have any interesting plans for the rest of the night, I'm at your service.'

'Just go to hell!' she snapped and heard him chuckle again behind her back.

'You'd better not tempt me,' he said with the same teasingly dark tone in his voice that made her freeze so easily and he chuckled again. 'Sleep, Natalia. And kindly let _me_ sleep.'

He loosened his grip, but she still felt tense under his touch and he sighed theatrically. 'I must say that you're hurting my feelings again. I've told you that you don't need to be afraid of me and you're still acting as if you've been waiting for me to bite you. Maybe I should give you a relaxing massage,' he remarked playfully.

'Maybe I should give you a punch in the stomach,' she answered icily, but it seemed that some of her tension had gone.

'So maybe it's me that should be afraid,' he laughed sleepily, closing his eyes. 'Goodnight, Natalia.'

She muttered something that did not really sound like a reply to his words and they were lying awake for a long moment before she finally relaxed to the feeling of warmth, of _his_ warmth, gradually making her frozen body comfortable to the extent that surprised her. It felt almost good. _Or rather_ it did not feel bad.

'Will you tell me now why you decided to warn me?' she suddenly asked when he had almost drifted into sleep.

'I'm tired out, honey,' he groaned. 'If you insist on pillow talks, why don't you invite me to your bedroom one day?'

She snorted dismissively and he smiled against her hair, and for a while they were listening to each other's breathing.

'Natalia?' he asked sleepily.

'What?'

'Are you still cold?'

She rolled her eyes, although in the darkness and with him behind her back it had no effect at all. 'I'm not, thank you. But you should have asked before.'

'Before what?'

'Before forcing yourself on me.'

He chuckled. 'So it was forcing myself on you? Maybe I should show you the difference.'

'Oh, shut up,' she muttered, but her irritation was only half-hearted this time.

'And what should I have asked for?' he inquired again. 'Permission?'

'Precisely.'

'You would have refused.'

'Probably.'

'Certainly,' he laughed. 'You tend to be difficult.'

'Difficult?' she grimaced.

'Yeah,' he admitted, amused. 'But I like it.'

'You _what_?' she asked, stunned by his words, and he was suddenly afraid that she was going to prolong the conversation till dawn.

'Sleep, Natalia. We're leaving in the morning.'

For a while she was lying quietly with her eyes open. And then another pressing question flashed through her mind.

'Stiglitz?'

'Yeah?' he sighed half-frustrated and half-amused by her sudden talkativeness. 'What do you want this time?'

'Why did you start killing your own people?'

The pause was so long that she was sure he would not answer this, but he suddenly whispered his reply and both what he said and his hot breath against her neck sent shivers down her spine.

'Because they killed my wife.'

xxxxxxxxxx

The truck swayed on the uneven road and Sarah squealed with delight, which immediately attracted Stiglitz's angry gaze.

'You'd better not make too much noise,' he said sternly and the child turned away, disconcerted and she nestled her face into Sophie's shoulder, so he went back to the activity he had been focused on since they had left the camp. Sharpening his knife. Something that was giving Sophie a headache and made Donowitz ask his psychopatic fellow if he was not afraid of cutting his fingers off on a bumpy road. But Stiglitz only gave him a dirty look before he turned his attention to the knife again.

Sophie looked at him searchingly, but he ignored her like he had done for the whole morning for the reasons he only seemed to know. Not that she suffered much from his lack of attention or that his absence behind her back when she had waken up at the crack of dawn was going to ruin her day, but his sudden bad mood worried her a bit. Yet more than she wanted to admit.

She suppressed a yawn. She had not been able to fall asleep for a long while after their night _chat_ and after throwing some sidelong glances at him, she was sure he had not slept well either. Only Sarah seemed to be well rested after a good night's sleep. She and Donowitz, who was sitting opposite, patting his baseball bat impatiently, obviously uncomfortable in a bit too tight uniform.

The lieutenant had not graced them with his presence in the morning to say goodbye to her, choosing to snore in his tent instead, but in his generosity he had assigned as many as four of his men to escort her and the child home, after she had shown on his map – not without some difficulties, which made him smirk – where precisely her grandma's village was. She appreciated his generous decision, although she supposed it had more to do with a task of obtaining some ammunition. But regardless of any hidden motives it was a nice gesture, especially that her escort in German uniforms included also Wicki and Utivich, who were travelling in the front cabin. And she felt almost safe with that arrangement, in spite of Stiglitz's annoying free time activity and Donowitz's eyes boring into her since the beginning of their journey.

'You know,' he suddenly decided to break the silence, as it seemed to be bothering him most of all, 'in Boston I have a little niece just like this kid.'

Sophie watched him coldly. Normally she would have appreciated his attempt at covering over the yesterday's bad impression, but right now she did not feel like having a little talk with anyone, especially The Bear Jew.

'That's really nice,' she said slowly and Donny smiled widely, but his grin was wiped off by her next words. 'Is she aware of how you treat women you don't even know?'

'I guess you didn't sleep well,' he sneered, an insinuation clear in his voice and her eyes narrowed. 'Someone bothered you?' he added with a lopsided smile.

'At least you had a good rest with no one bothering you at all. Pity,' she pouted her lips dismissively.

'Stop it,' Stiglitz cut in unexpectedly and they both looked at him in surprise, but he did not even gaze away from his knife.

The truck suddenly slowed down and stopped and they all exchanged wary glances. Stiglitz gestured to Sarah, his finger on his lips, and Sophie embraced the child immediately. 'Be _very_ quiet,' she whispered in her ear and the little girl nodded, anxious as much as the adults around her.

The cabin door slammed once and then again and they were trying to decipher the meaning behind this, but after they heard Wicki introducing himself, or rather an imaginary German soldier, to someone beside the truck, it became clear, more or less. _The German_.

They listened to Wicki's talking in German and Donowitz shifted irritably, as he obviously did not understand a single word of that. Stiglitz looked at Sophie searchingly, as if he was trying to check if she was frightened, but she kept her expression impassive, ignoring a twinge in her stomach.

'Yes, sir,' Wicki's polite voice seemed undisturbed and it was closer now as if he was approaching the rear of the truck

'We have _three_ Jews at the back,' he added and inside the truck Stiglitz showed three fingers to Donowitz, who nodded understandingly, and they both took out their guns noiselessly. 'But I don't know how many of them are still hiding _behind_, so we must be careful here,' Wicki added hurriedly as he was evidently leading someone, or more likely two people, towards the back of the truck and Sophie watched Stiglitz mouth something to The Bear Jew.

'I want to see this scum,' a harsh voice demanded.

'Obviously, sir,' Wicki kindly agreed, raising the tarpaulin, and Sophie only managed to catch a glimpse of two German soldiers before Donowitz mowed them down with his machine gun.

'Stay here,' Stiglitz snarled not even looking at her, and he jumped out of the truck right behind The Bear Jew. The noise of machine guns rent the air like thunders and it was immediately followed by someone's cries and curses.

Inside the truck Sophie hugged Sarah tightly, reaching for her purse and taking out the pistol. She aimed it at the rear exit and was waiting anxiously, pressing Sarah's face against her chest and when the noise suddenly stopped, she could almost hear their heartbeats. For a while nothing happened, but suddenly someone in a German uniform raised the tarpaulin further and she almost squeezed the trigger, but she recognized Stiglitz.

'Don't shoot. It's me', he smirked. 'It's alright,' he said and her eyes shifted to large red stains on his uniform and to his hands covered with blood and she froze, but he smiled faintly.

'Come on, Natalia. It's not my blood. But Utivich is shot.'

That seemed to wake her up and she gently moved Sarah back, putting the doll in her hands. 'Stay here, alright?' she asked before looking up at Stiglitz again. 'Where is he?'

He shook his head. 'It's not a good idea. You'd better stay here as well until we finish.'

'What?' she got up to crouch at the exit and he unwillingly helped her to jump down, her _fucking_ shoes presenting problems again, but she ignored this. As well as she ignored two bodies left there on the ground by Donny.

'Where's Utivich?' she demanded again, but Stiglitz held her arm.

'You really shouldn't watch us at work,' he insisted, his eyes demanding, but she did not give a damn about this.

'What are you talking about?', she jerked her arm away, feeling a bit dizzy with the adrenaline flowing. 'I must see Utivich.'

But when she came around the truck she understood what he meant at once.

There was another truck in the opposite lane and a dead body hanging from the driver's cabin did not worry her much. Actually, it did not worry her at all in comparison with the other scenes appearing in front of her. Like Donowitz kneeling by something that must have been a German soldier only half an hour before, but now its head was reduced to a bloody pulp and The Bear Jew gave her a nasty, predatory smile when their eyes met for a while.

And Wicki, the nice, polite, gentle Wicki, was just scalping a corpse clad in a blood-stained German uniform and that made her stop dead in her track and she was looking unbelievingly at the bloody, hairy scrap he was holding in his hand. And when he raised his head and saw her, they both looked away as if avoiding each other's eyes could help much.

She looked right, to the spot where a young German soldier was cringing on the ground, his legs bleeding profusely, and she suddenly felt her lips parched when some incoherent thoughts crossed her mind. But she stood in silence, unable to move, when Stiglitz passed her without a word and came to the boy, yanking him up to his knees. Then he stood right behind this half-conscious Nazi, grabbing him by his hair and tilting his head back.

'He saw you,' he simply said, looking at her blankly, and before she could even reply, he slit the soldier's throat with one graceful movement of his knife.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **As before.

**Many thanks – as always – **to people who have reviewed this story, added it to favourites, alerted or read it.

**Chapter 9 **is for you, a bit longer that usual. Enjoy.

Besides, soon, very soon in fact, I'm starting a new story here, and it is also Stiglitz-oriented, but dark. Verrrry dark.

**9. Wolves**

She stumbled on something hidden in tall grass and Stiglitz promptly caught her elbow to help her keep balance, but she yanked her arm out, as if his fingers had burnt her, as if the smeared bloody traces still visible on his hands could contaminate her skin, leave an irremovable mark on it. Donowitz only sneered, muttering something under his breath, something he probably would not like to bring up in the presence of his German fellow. Something undeniably kind and wise, but she ignored him, her thoughts returning persistently to the same leitmotiv.

It was hard, really hard to remove these images from in front of her eyes, to push them somewhere to the back of her mind, behind any other hair-raising memories she kept there. She had really done her best, not fainting in the first place, although for those unbelievably long seconds while she was watching the young German's blood flowing down his neck to his chest, she felt her own blood drain from her face. But she fought it off. She did not even throw up for that matter, in spite of a wave of nausea coming over her violently, as the sight was nauseating, to say the least of it.

Right, she should have known what to expect. She was aware, though _theoretically_, what they did; Paul had told her some stories that would have been disgusting if they had been believable, but seeing them at work, as Stiglitz euphemistically put it, touched a raw nerve, or maybe not only touched, but squeezed it. Her hands were trembling a bit when she turned around to check Utivich's condition; he was half-sitting and half-lying on the grass by the road, propped against a tree, which was probably supposed to provide him with a better view of his fellows' activities. His face was pale and sweaty. One bullet had either grazed or torn his side – she did not know it for sure, but the bleeding had already stopped. Another bullet was lodged in his left arm and he was evidently in pain, but there was not much she could do about that – Wicki had dressed both the wounds before going on a scalping spree. She could only shout to them to hurry up, without even turning her face to them. Utivich needed a doctor.

Now, when she was leading Stiglitz and Donowitz through a vast, green orchard spreading around her grandma's house, her spirits rose just a little bit, though she was still avoiding their eyes for the reasons she was not entirely sure. The orchard bordered with a forest and they had decided to leave the truck there. The area seemed deserted; she had told them that the nearest neighbours lived some four or five miles down the road. Yet still there was a chance someone could see their truck in front of the house and Aldo's yesterday final orders had been brief and strict: be damn careful and avoid anything that can endanger the girl. Both the girls, in fact.

For some reason Sarah had chosen to wait on the truck with Wicki and Utivich; she was obviously fond of the former and worried about the latter and Sophie had not insisted, but promised to come back soon and walked towards the house, escorted by the other two men, both still in their German uniforms, stained with German blood. They _were_ careful while following her through the orchard, and a figure that suddenly emerged from behind a tree made Stiglitz raise his gun at once, but she managed to catch his sleeve.

'It's OK, I know him,' she said quickly, her eyes on a young man, almost a boy, who laughed as if it had been a good joke and she wondered if he was sane, appearing out of thin air, without a slightest word of warning. At least he was reasonable enough not to jump off the tree in front of them.

'That's really nice of you to turn up so early,' he drawled mockingly in English, his French accent evident, and she smiled for the first time since their _road incident_.

'François Bozonnet, a disgrace to his family and a permanent but tedious resident of this place,' she introduced him to the men and he grimaced. 'What?' she raised her eyebrow. 'That's more or less what your mother usually says about you.'

He laughed and shook their hands eagerly. 'I know who you are, Paul told me everything. You can call me Frank. Like Frank Sinatra,' he added and Sophie laughed at the comparison until she caught Stiglitz's gaze and fell silent under his piercing eyes.

'And speaking about a disgrace to the family,' the boy looked at her mischievously. 'I'm not the one that came back in the morning in someone else's clothes. Sophie Larmount, an ungrateful chit who risks her family good name.'

Donowitz leaped at the opportunity to sneer wholeheartedly, but she sighed. 'Is it that bad?' she asked softly and Frank's grin increased even more.

'Extremely.'

They began to walk towards the house, both the soldiers following them in silence.

'Gran's angry?', she inquired, still unsure if he was really joking. With her grandmother everything was possible.

'Of course she is,' he nodded. 'You gave her a sleepless night. Just wait a moment and she will tell you something nice about this.'

The house loomed into view as soon as they reached the end of the orchard and a narrow path led through a small meadow towards the porch. It was a big, two-storey building made of wood and stone, and it seemed almost as old as the large trees that surrounded it. Hugo's eyes moved along its sloping roof and the attic windows half-hidden behind wooden shutters. He liked this place.

There was someone standing on the porch, a tiny figure of an old woman that seemed immovable like a statue, leaned on a walking stick. But when they were close enough, she came up to meet them and, Hugo thought, for a person who used a walking stick, she moved quite briskly. He saw Sophie grow tense before the inevitable confrontation.

'Morning, Gran,' she began in French, but the elderly lady nodded stiffly and bore her eyes into her, an air of disapproval visible on her face.

'Morning, indeed. You didn't sleep at home,' she said grimly.

'I know…,' Sophie began, but the grandmother obviously was not finished with her portion of scolding.

'I told you can play conspiracy as long as you come back home at a decent time. What were you thinking about?'

Donowitz suppressed a laugh, but a wide grin appeared on his face; he did not understand much of the exchange, as his French vocabulary was rather limited to words and phrases useful to pick up a girl, and to be able to have a brief word with her before moving to more pleasant activities. But Sophie's expression was precious and anything that made her so embarrassed must have been really good.

She sighed and gestured to Stiglitz as a last resort. 'Gran, this is the man who warned me and Adam in Warsaw,' she said softly, unsure of what to expect from the elderly lady she had not managed to figure out completely for the last several months. And the reaction she received was absolutely beyond her all expectations. The woman's face stretched in a wide grin, all severity gone as if it had never really been there, and she took a step forward, holding out her hand.

'My dear boy,' she said gently. 'It's a pleasure to meet you.'

Stiglitz shook her hand, his eyes inscrutable, but his mouth twitched uncomfortably and Sophie suddenly felt a surge of pity for him. _Dear boy. Really. _Her grandmother had an undeniable talent for causing consternation with her selection of words and she was not in the least disturbed by their uniforms marked with stains that were now more brownish than red.

'We're sorry, ma'am, for keeping your granddaughter for so long. We had some issues to discuss,' he said, his voice as impassive as usual.

'Partisans,' the old lady's gaze shifted approvingly from Stiglitz to Donowitz and back and Sophie was almost sure that this sudden change in her grandmother's mood was caused by her mention of Adam.

'That's right, ma'am,' Hugo confirmed.

'Gran, we have a wounded soldier on the truck,' Sophie interrupted and the elderly lady shot her a disapproving look.

'So what are you waiting for? Bring him home. François, help them.'

Stiglitz cleared his throat before speaking and Mrs. Larmount looked up at him questioningly. 'Something like a stretcher would be helpful,' he said.

'François,' the elderly lady commanded. 'See what you can find for them.'

Frank promptly ran towards a small shed that stood near the house, as if he was used to taking orders from this ancient commander.

'Where's Marta?' Sophie asked.

'Your aunt is in the basement,' the grandmother frowned slightly, which made Sophie wonder whether both the ladies had another of their _difference of opinion_. 'Helping Madam Steinberg.'

'I'm here,' came a melodic voice from the porch and a beautiful woman in a simple brown dress appeared at the doorframe and Sophie came up to her at once and she hugged her tightly.

'I was worried.'

'I know. But I'm alright.'

'You've changed your clothes,' the woman noticed and Sophie smiled at her before glaring at Donny for a moment.

'The dress is torn. Come. I'll introduce you to them.'

'And where's the child?'

'Waiting on the truck. They'll bring her soon.'

'Is it her aunt?' Donowitz whistled quietly, his eyes roaming through the woman's figure up and down. _Aunt. That's a good one._ _Aunts don't have such shapely legs. Don't smell so nice. And their breasts don't scream to be touched. _At least his Aunt Bridget did not have none of these features in the slightest possible degree.

'Stop staring, Donny.' Stiglitz whispered mockingly. 'That's rude.'

Donowitz grimaced slightly and the woman looked at them with an absent-minded smile.

'My name is Marta Tar…'

'Marta Larmount,' the grandmother cut in harshly, as vigilant as always. 'It's Marta Larmount now. Don't forget it.'

They introduced themselves and Donny held the woman's hand in his for a bit longer than necessary, his smile highly encouraging, but she did not even notice it and seemed rather unimpressed as if he had been a boring old neighbour. But before the disappointment became visible on his face, François came back, lugging what looked like an unhinged door.

'Suits you?' he asked Stiglitz.

'Perfectly.'

They were about to start the trip back to the truck when another woman appeared on the porch, a girl about twenty, with long dark-red hair and an insolent smile that drew Donny's attention at once. She looked around lazily and her gaze stopped at Sophie.

'What the hell are you wearing?' she asked and the elderly lady rolled her eyes, but Sophie smiled.

'I'm also glad to see you, Mona.'

Frank laughed. 'Gentlemen, this is Mona von Hammersbaum, the worst half of the evil twins that are currently haunting this place. Beware of her nails and teeth,' he added when she snorted.

The old lady frowned again. Donowitz's blissful smile did not escape her attention and she decided it was a right moment to intervene. 'Go home, girls. Now!' she demanded. 'And you,' she turned to the Basterds, her voice almost as firm as it was when she gave her orders to Frank, 'bring your wounded friend here. And then we will take care of these uniforms.' And she returned to the porch, murmuring something about wolves among the sheep, or at least it was what Hugo heard and it amused him much.

_Of course_ Mona wanted to hear the whole story, but Sophie went upstairs to make a phone call she had been planning for a while. Then she sneaked to _her_ bathroom to escape any more nagging, and she washed herself in record time and went to her bedroom, rushing to the wardrobe and flinging the door open as if she could still hear Mona urging her behind her back. She grabbed the first dress to hand, but suddenly stopped irresolutely and she put the dress aside, before she started searching through the contents of the wardrobe purposefully until she glimpsed a flash of a dark blue dress and took it out of the wardrobe with a smirk.

She had already changed her clothes and was brushing her hair, when Mona opened the door and stood at the doorframe, not even bothering to knock first, but that was nothing new. 'They're back,' she announced.

'Oh, yeah?' Sophie put the hairbrush back and looked at her own reflection in the large mirror that stood in the corner of the room. 'And where are they now?'

'Downstairs. They brought the wounded one to the guest room and Marta stayed with him, so your grandma sent them to the kitchen. But Jeanette chased them away, cause they brought some mud on the floor.'

They both laughed. Gran could rule the whole house, but Jeanette, the cook, reigned supreme in the kitchen and she could defend her territory.

'And where's Sarah?'

'The child? Stayed in the kitchen. So are you going to tell me which of them it is?' Mona asked and a devilish smile appeared on her face.

'What are you talking about?'

'I'm only asking which of them it is. The big guy with black hair? He's quite delicious.'

'Absolutely,' Sophie admitted wickedly and Mona giggled.

'Or maybe it's the one that keeps staring at you as if you've been the only female left within the radius of one hundred miles? I would bet on this one.'

'Are you crazy? He's only a….. an acquaintance.'

'Is he?' Mona cocked her head mockingly. 'So why are you wearing _this_ dress?'

Sophie shrugged innocently, her gaze moving down to her dress, and it was when the man in question cleared his throat behind Mona's back and Sophie looked at him in panic, not sure how much he had heard, but quite positive that the girl at the door must at least have heard him approaching.

'So I guess I'll leave you two,' Mona said suggestively before dancing her way out of the room and Sophie made a mental note to strangle the damned intriguer the first occasion she would have.

Stiglitz came up to her slowly, a faint smile playing on his lips and his eyes roaming lazily through her form. 'I must say I'm flattered, mademoiselle,' he said when he stopped in front of her so closely that she inhaled deeply before meeting his eyes. 'It's a very nice dress. And really suits you. If I had my way,' he paused again, his eyes suddenly so intense that she almost took a step backward, 'you'd wear this dress quite often. Except maybe for these occasions when you'd wear nothing at all,' he smirked and her eyes moved down to his chest.

And she suddenly froze. Red and brownish stains on his uniform. Blood. Red liquid flowing down the German's soldier's throat. Bloody scrap in Wicki's hands. She shuddered involuntarily.

'Are you OK? he asked, his tone unusually gentle and she snapped out of these visions immediately.

'Yes,' she lied in a strained voice and went past him to the door before the hand he held out towards her could touch her shoulder. 'Let's go downstairs,' she said, avoiding his eyes again. 'You must have these uniforms cleaned before you leave.'

He followed her downstairs without any comment and they went to the hall where Wicki and Donowitz were waiting; the first looked a bit tired, whereas the other was cheerfully talking to Frank, casting smouldering glances at Mona, who was pretending to ignore him, but her lips twitched in a sly smile. They all looked at Sophie when she appeared at the top of the stairs, but she ignored both Wicki's smile and Donowitz's all-knowing gaze.

'You must take off these uniforms. We will clean them,' she said, her expression blank.

'What about Utivich?' Donny asked her, frowning. 'We can't leave him here.'

'You will have to. I've already called the doctor.'

'You what?' he snapped, taking a step in her direction, but Stiglitz's warning glance made him stop at once.

'Calm down,' she said impassively. 'Dr. Marceau is a family friend. He has already helped us when Mrs. Steinberg's children were ill.'

'And what did you tell him?' he grimaced, evidently not delighted with the idea.

'That François fell off the ladder and hit his head really badly.'

Frank winced. 'Why me?'

'Because it's highly probable,' she smirked slightly. 'Anyway, the doctor will arrive here soon, so we'd better hurry up. Mona, can you prepare towels and clothes for them?'

Mona shrugged lazily. 'Sure. You can wait in the sitting room. It's over there,' she told them, catching Donowitz's gaze, and she smiled smugly when he winked at her.

'Alright, thank you,' Stiglitz went down the corridor in the direction she had shown and for a while he stopped hesitantly at the door.

There was a woman, or rather a girl with long blonde hair, standing in the middle of the room with her back turned to them, and she was dusting a large, round table, humming quietly to herself, and she did not even hear them come in until Donowitz cleared his throat, watching her figure approvingly. She turned around at that very instant and the vase she was holding slipped out of her hands falling to the carpet with a thud. She took a step backwards, then another, circling the table, and her face become pale, a look of pure horror visible on her face, which made Wicki furrow his brow in surprise. Right, they may not look their best at the very moment, but her reaction was highly exaggerated.

'Excuse me,' Sophie's voice was sharp behind their backs and she almost elbowed her way to the room, rushing to calm down the girl. 'It's alright, Nadine,' she said, putting her hands on the girl's shoulders. 'They're not German…' she broke off for a moment. _Well, not exactly. One of them actually is._ 'Mona!' she finally shouted, turning to the door and the ginger she-devil appeared at the doorframe.

'Why did you send them here?' Sophie threw her an angry look and the red-haired shrew shrugged uncertainly, her expression unusually disturbed.

'I'm sorry. I forgot she was here.'

'Never mind,' Sophie waved her hand dismissively. 'Just take her to the kitchen.'

Mona approached the blonde woman and wrapped her arm around her shoulders. 'It's OK,' she said softly, leading her out of the room and the men moved aside to let them pass.

'What was it all about?' Hugo asked matter-of-factly when the girls had left.

Sophie sighed, still angry for herself, most of all, that she had forgotten about Nadine too. 'She lived in a village down the road. Last autumn she was attacked by a few German soldiers. After they killed her husband.'

'What did they do to her?' Donowitz asked, but she did not answer and Wicki's hand patted his shoulder.

'Stop it, Donny.'

'It's a pretty girl,' Donowitz said pensively, watching the door Nadine had disappeared behind and Sophie's eyes moved to his face in an instant.

'That's exactly what those Germans thought,' she said and he gave her a dirty look, but she could not care less about his feelings, hurt or not. 'You can go to the bathroom now,' she told them, her gaze stopping at Wicki and he was watching her closely even when she averted her eyes. But she looked at him again after Stiglitz and Donowitz had left the room and he stayed behind hesitantly. They just stood in silence for a long while before he decided to voice what he wanted to tell her.

'Listen, Sophie. I know what you saw on the road was…'

'It's not about you,' she interrupted, not sure whether she wanted to analyze her own feelings at the moment.

'Donowitz?'

She just snorted dismissively and Wicki gave her a searching look. He did not really need to ask more.

'He did it to protect you.'

'I know it. I've figured it out. But he shouldn't have done it that way. That was…,' she hesitated, not sure what word to use to describe it best, 'disgusting.'

'Ain't it nice?' Donowitz's voice was unmistakable and they both turned around. 'Is our new business partner having second thoughts about our cooperation?'

She did not answer or even look at him, but Donny approached her slowly, ignoring Wicki's disapproving glances.

'You didn't like our little show on the road, did ya?'

She turned to him defiantly and saw Wicki put his hand on the other man's shoulder.

'Stop it, Donny,' he said, but The Bear Jew was not going to stop this time.

'I'm just wondering what Aldo would say about this,' he said with a sneer, his eyes studying her face.

'You won't tell anything to the lieutenant,' Wicki's voice was suddenly as hard as his gaze. 'It was a private conversation I had with Miss Larmount. Nothing that concerns Aldo.'

'Something's wrong?' Stiglitz entered the room so quietly that they noticed his presence only when he spoke up and looked at him in surprise. He had already replaced his German uniform with a blue shirt Mona must have given to him and he was buttoning it up unhurriedly, but why he started with the shirt cuffs was a puzzle to all of them.

Donny sneered. 'Your woman has objections about how we kill Krauts. Maybe she wants to give us some lessons how to do it properly. Without staining our hands.'

Stiglitz looked at her closely, before his gaze moved to his fellow soldiers. 'Just leave us.'

'And the magic word?' Donowitz snapped, obviously disappointed with this end of the conversation that had promised to be rather funny.

Hugo looked at him blankly. 'You wouldn't like to hear my magic word, Donny. And now be so kind and leave us. The bathroom is round the corner.'

Donowitz looked like he was ready, well, not exactly to argue, but to say his last word on the matter, yet Wicki put his hand on his shoulder again. 'Let's go.'

'So what's going on, Natalia?' Stiglitz asked when the others left and she flinched at him using her given name again, so casually. 'I guess you're not angry that Donowitz called you my woman.'

She looked at him defiantly. 'I'm not your woman,' she almost snarled.

'No, you're not,' he agreed and her eyes narrowed a bit. 'Definitely not,' he added and he looked at her until in her expression he saw something he had been waiting for and then he smirked. 'At least not yet.'

She turned her back to him in self-defence and for a while she was looking through the window absently, yet aware that he was now standing behind her back. And she was not surprised at all when she felt his palms on her shoulders, so delicate and careful as if he did not want to scare her just yet.

'You must be still disturbed by what you witnessed on the road,' he said, his voice calm and quiet. 'That's why I insisted you stayed on the truck.'

'I know, but…,' she hesitated.

'I'm quite positive that the view wasn't pleasant at all, but it wasn't meant to be pleasant. We have orders,' he explained calmly, patiently, impassively, as if he was talking about the rules of a game she was not willing to play. 'And each of us, including me, has some strong personal reasons to follow them. The Krauts must fear us. Must know we mean business.'

She did not answer and he continued in the same voice. 'And if you're angry about this German soldier…'

'You could simply have shot him,' she cut in.

'A waste of ammunition. He was almost dead. He would not have made it with his aorta damaged. I just sped up the inevitable.'

She shuddered and his fingers stroked her shoulders reassuringly. 'I guess it's different when you simply shoot them. Keep distance.'

'Different? I could never…' she broke off. 'Never do what you…'

'Never?' he asked. 'Just think what these men could have done to you, or to someone you love. Just feed this rage and you will find the power to do things you'd never thought yourself capable of.'

'Still…,' she started and felt silent as his fingers kept drawing small circles on her shoulders.

'So perhaps we are like wolves,' he smirked to himself at using the same comparison her grandmother had used not so long ago. 'Once we smell blood it's no way to stop us.'

She did not answer this and his hands shifted a little bit towards her neck, his fingers still stroking her skin delicately.

'I would hug you, Natalia, if you think it can help you right now,' he said softly, his voice both husky and reassuring and she turned around to face him.

For a moment they just looked at each other and then her eyes moved down to his chest, to his still undone shirt and her gaze stopped on his bare skin.

'I can see that you're easily distracted,' he smirked slightly.

'Are you going to button this shirt up?' she returned the smirk.

'No,' he admitted. 'It's too tight. Are you going to give me my shirt back?'

'I slept in it. I must wash it first.'

'Don't you dare. Just give it back to me,' he chuckled and suddenly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer and she – rather instinctively than deliberately – threw her arms around his neck, which was _warmly_ received.

'And from this position,' he said softly against her hair, 'we are not far from _your_ method for leading me out of the tavern safely. So what was the next step?'

But before she could answer someone cleared her throat behind them and the sound was terribly familiar.

'Dr. Marceau is here,' her grandmother announced gravely.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **As before.

I know it took me ages to finish this chapter, but September's been really and absolutely crazy.

**Many thanks **to all reviewers, readers, visitors.

**Chapter 10 especially for you. Enjoy.**

XXXXXXXXXX

**10. Expectations**

It started to rain in the afternoon, right after the Basterds had left, and the atmosphere in the large kitchen of the Larmounts' house matched the weather perfectly; it was as dark and gloomy as the landscape outside. Sophie shifted uneasily in her chair, watching raindrops falling down the windowpane as a wave of strange dejection was slowly sweeping over her. She would rather go upstairs and stay in her bedroom for the rest of this particularly long day, but it was nearly impossible to escape from the family meeting her grandmother had called to talk through the latest developments.

Utivich's presence in the house was in fact only a pretext for the whole discussion – Gran had already decided that he should be moved to an attic room and delegated Mona to take care of him, which surprised Sophie, though she expected there was a good reason for that. Most likely the old lady wanted to find a suitable job for the ginger beauty to prevent her from floating about the house and getting on Jeanette's nerves with her irritating comments.

Out of all the temporary residents who were currently staying at the house, Mona was definitely the most problematic case. A nuisance, as Jeanette said, and Frank occasionally bet Sophie that her grandma would finally break and send Mona away, but for some unknown reasons the elderly lady seemed to have inexhaustible patience with the girl. And for her twin brother, who suffered his fate of a _Jewish refugee _with gallows humour. But he at least kept a low profile and spent long hours in his attic room composing poems and essays he was planning to publish after his _exile _was over. Which of course did not stop him from occasional night escapes from the house to wander around the forest or to sit by the river, in spite of Mrs. Larmount's clear orders about safety rules they all had to obey.

At least the Steinbergs followed their hostess's requests scrupulously, though in their case the cautiousness was taken to extremes – they were reluctant to leave their basement rooms and Gran usually had to convince them herself that it was perfectly safe. But they had escaped from hell. Unthinkable horrors from what Mrs. Steinberg had told Sophie. Something the two terribly spoilt brats had never really experienced.

Utivich seemed a perfect occasion to keep Mona occupied for a while; Dr Marceau had examined his wounds, removed a bullet from his arm and announced that the wounded man should stay in bed for at least two weeks. As usual, he had not asked a single question and no one had been willing to tell him what happened or to reveal Utivich's identity. Or, even better, to introduce him to the three threatening-looking men, who had been hidden in the sitting room, waiting impatiently for the results of the examination. The less information the doctor had, the better for him, as Gran used to say, and all the parties of this unwritten agreement spoke with one voice in that respect.

But after the wounded partisan's case had been briefly discussed, the grandmother smoothly changed the subject to what had been really bothering her for the last few hours and her loud voice filled the kitchen authoritatively.

'I know he helped you once and you may be grateful…'

'Even very grateful,' Frank said from his place in the corner where he was sitting silently, just waiting for the right moment to cut in. But before he had a chance to elaborate on his statement, his mother hit him across the back with a rag she was holding and he could only groan, looking at her resentfully.

'Don't you dare interrupt,' Jeanette snapped at him in response and – just in case – looked at Mona warningly, but the red-haired girl seemed to be extremely interested in her nails at the very moment and she had ostentatiously demonstrated the same air of indifference since the very beginning of the meeting. But she was listening carefully.

'I know,' the grandmother continued her speech obstinately, 'what he is and I'm fully aware of his previous _achievements_. You may be surprised but I know what he had done before he joined these partisans.'

Sophie was not surprised at all and she could only heave a sigh of frustration.

She had to admit that Gran had prepared well for that little family meeting and even demonstrated extraordinary slyness to obtain necessary information. She had first questioned Frank in private and that idiot was so delighted that – for the first time ever – the old lady had considered him a sort of expert in any subject that he happily answered all the questions she asked him about the Basterds in general, and Stiglitz in particular.

'I have enough problems, all of you know that well,' the elderly lady cast her eyes around the kitchen before her accusing gaze returned to Sophie again. 'So I don't need to worry about your relationship with a man of that ilk.'

'Relationship?' Sophie raised an eyebrow but even she could feel a false note in this demonstration of great astonishment. 'He's only a…'

'Acquaintance?' Mona prompted innocently and Sophie scowled at her.

Gran's lips were pressed together in a line so tight as if she was going to flatten them. 'Is my granddaughter in the habit of embracing half-naked _acquaintances_, not to mention in a house full of people?'

Mona's eyes gleamed with amused curiosity. 'Was he half-naked?' she asked doubtfully, but did not dare even to smile when Jeanette gave her an angry glare.

Sophie blushed, much to Frank's delight, but she bravely held the old lady's gaze.

'He wasn't half-naked,' she said quietly. 'And what you saw was nothing.' She hesitated for a moment. Well, it had certainly been _something_, according to Gran's nineteenth-century standards, but at present it definitely did not fall into category "Scandalous". 'Absolutely nothing to make a fuss about.'

Gran shot her a razor-sharp glance. 'It was nothing because I was there at the right time.'

'So what's the matter?'

'He's German,' the grandmother twisted her lips as if the name itself suggested something nasty, like an embarrassing disease for instance.

'So what?' Sophie asked defiantly, though she had already known that this kind of tactic was not the best idea in this house.

'So what?' Gran roared. 'You really shouldn't ask such questions!'

There was something in the elderly lady's eyes that made Sophie close her mouth before she could formulate any reply and Gran smirked before she looked around.

'First of all we must remember what these people are. Partisans. Brave men who fight the Germans,' she paused for a while, but no one dared to cut in. 'But that of course doesn't make them saints. They're renegades. Live in the woods. Miss female company. Have terrible manners,' her gaze stopped at Mona, who was trying hard to hide her amusement.

'So why did you invite them here?'

The question came from the least expected side – Marta had been silent since the beginning of the meeting and now when she suddenly spoke up, all the eyes turned to her in unison. Especially as the question was legitimate.

After Dr Marceau's departure the grandmother had not left the scene even for a second, hovering over the Basterds like an evil spirit, her gaze vigilant and her expression occasionally murderous when she noticed any furtive glances the men cast on _her_ girls. But when they had been just about to leave she had unexpectedly changed tactics and surprised everyone with the invitation she asked Stiglitz to pass on to their commander.

'Fair point,' Frank noticed from his corner and Gran's evil gaze found him at once.

'What are you still doing here, François? Shouldn't you be on watch at the moment? The Steinbergs may want to have a walk in the orchard.'

'In the rain?' Frank protested, but his mother nudged him and he stood up, unhappy that he was going to miss the end of the quite interesting exchange.

'So what about this invitation?' Marta repeated her question calmly, when the door was closed behind the boy.

'I have my own reasons,' the elderly lady said enigmatically, her face an inscrutable mask. 'Can you all kindly leave us for a while?' she asked, her tone too definite for it to be a simple request. 'I want to talk to my granddaughter alone,' she explained as if any explanation was needed and Sophie grimaced inwardly at the perspective of the face-to-face conversation.

'Are you going to tell me what's going on between you and that German?' Gran came straight to the point as soon as the others left.

Sophie looked at her with forced calmness. 'His name is Hugo,' she said, the name feeling a bit strange on her tongue and she gazed away.

'He's German,' the elderly lady repeated mercilessly. 'And you seem to forget what they did to your father and where your mother is at the moment because of them,' she added and Sophie met her eyes angrily.

'I didn't forget. But I'm not going to blame him for what happened to Dad. Or to Mum. Or to Grandpa,' she added and they glared at each other for a moment.

'Don't even tell me that he's different!' Gran spat.

Sophie snorted impatiently. 'You know as well as I do, Gran, that he _is_ different.'

'Why? Because now he kills them instead of killing with them? Or because he's on their _Most Wanted_ list?' The old lady paused for a while and when she continued her voice was only a bit calmer. 'I don't want my granddaughter, my _only _granddaughter in fact, to make wrong choices about her life.'

'Wrong choices?' Sophie frowned as if she – really, truly – could not follow the elderly lady's train of thought. 'What are you talking about, Gran?'

The old lady gave her a strange look.

'When you arrived here after…' She paused and Sophie shook her head impatiently.

'After Kamil's death,' she said, surprised that she did not feel a familiar choke in her voice. 'It's not a taboo subject, really. You don't need to worry that I'll get all hysterical about that.'

Gran watched her closely. 'Right. After that poor boy's death. So when you arrived here, looking like a ghost, thin as a rake… I told you to forget the past. To go on with your life. Find someone.'

'So maybe you should be happy I'm finally trying to follow your advice.'

But the elderly lady ignored the irony completely. 'I am happy. Really. But what I meant was someone… Someone who could…'

'Replace Kamil?' Sophie shook her head, snorting.

'Someone you could be happy with.'

'Like who exactly? Pierre Marceau?' Sophie winced to better express her feelings.

Dr Marceau's younger son had been a bone of contention between her and Gran for weeks if not for months and Sophie was wondering if the doctor and her grandmother were plotting behind her back each Thursday when they met for bridge at the doctor's house. Not that any plotting could really help much. She had met Pierre several times and regardless of whether it was a luncheon or an innocent, _accidental_ meeting, the conclusion was always the same. A nice, well-mannered, sensible young man. Deadly boring.

'Excellent example,' Gran admitted and the girl winced even more.

'Are you still going to choose my suitors for me?'

'So he's a suitor now? That German?' Gran raised her eyebrow mockingly. 'And you've told me that he's only an acquaintance.'

Sophie just gazed away, angry at herself for dropping her guard and the old lady decided to deliver the final blow.

'Have you ever wondered why he was promoted?'

'What do you mean?' Sophie looked up at her.

'When you met him, he was a mere corporal. But before he joined these partisans he had already become a sergeant. And forgive me if I'm wrong, but I highly doubt if in Hitler's army they get promoted for paperwork only. Just think about this.'

They eyed each other for a long moment and then Sophie stood up and left without a word.

As she had expected, Mona was standing just behind the door, not even pretending that she had not been eavesdropping and Sophie's scowl did not discourage the damn pest at all from following her upstairs. But she started to speak only when the bedroom door was closed behind them.

'You resign too easily.'

'Really?' Sophie glared at her.

'Your grandma always shoots well, but she often loses battles.'

Sophie answered nothing to this shaft of wisdom while she was furiously changing her clothes.

'She mentioned your fiancé,' Mona started again and Sophie gave her an angry look.

'I don't wanna talk about this right now. Or ever.'

'So she did.'

'It doesn't matter.' Sophie opened the wardrobe door. 'I'm tired, Mona, so tell me what you wanna tell and...'

'I can help you.' The ginger-haired girl announced happily and Sophie froze, and her hand reaching out to take another dress stopped in mid-air.

'What are you talking about?

'Why, about that Stiglitz,' Mona smiled slyly and that immediately put Sophie in motion and she took a dress off the hanger angrily.

'I don't need any help with him.'

'But you like him,' Mona cocked her head.

'Maybe,' Sophie admitted before she shook her head. 'No. He simply irritates me to the core. Just like you.'

'So you do.'

'Mona, I just… hardly know him. We… we met two years ago and now we meet again. By pure accident.'

'Oh, really?' Mona smiled doubtfully. 'But you slept in his tent.'

'How do you…'

'Sarah told me,' the ginger laughed at Sophie's expression. 'You like him. And he keeps staring at you all the time. I noticed that at once and your grandma did as well, though she's obviously been unhappy about this. She can be grateful to him for saving you, but when _that German_ actually dares to touch her little granddaughter _half-naked_, well, that's where any gratitude ends,' Mona smiled devilishly. 'But you don't need to worry, we'll do something about this.'

Sophie snorted at the increasing absurdity of the whole conversation.

'Mona, what do you think I'm planning to do? To wait until Gran goes to Paris for shopping and elude with him?'

The red-haired girl simply shrugged and they both chuckled. _Well_, Sophie thought, _if anyone here had wide experience in this area, it was definitely Mona_.

After all, the outbreak of war had foiled her bold plans to escape with her parents' young and killingly handsome chauffeur, when she was barely sixteen. And although her admirer's feelings had cooled much when the Nazi terror increased and Mona's Jewish descent obviously stood in the way of their getting married, even in secret, the escape plan itself had been good. Cunning.

'Anyway, if you ever decide, I'll help you,' Mona gave her a roguish smile, 'even if it breaks my brother's heart.'

Sophie grimaced. 'Speaking of which, where's he?'

'Suffering in silence in his room.'

'He didn't think it fit to check what's going on in the house? He must have heard some noises.'

Mona shrugged. 'I guess so. But he probably assumed that it was nothing important. Perhaps if he heard the Germans shouting and running through the house, he could eventually become interested.'

Sophie scowled at her. 'Ghastly joke.'

'But a good one.' The girl shrugged again, still irritatingly unwilling to leave.

'Mona,' Sophie sighed, throwing herself onto the bed. 'You'd better go and see your patient.'

'It's no use. He's completely knocked out after the doctor's therapy. Doubt whether he wakes up today even if…'

'Mona!' Sophie groaned into the pillow and that stopped the upcoming monologue at once.

'Alright, alright. I'm going. I took the hint. In fact, half an hour ago,' the ginger added, her hand grabbing the door handle reluctantly. 'So see you later.'

XXX

If someone had told Utivich that the first sight his eyes would rest on after he woke up from his drug-induced sleep would be that of a woman's bust scarcely covered with thin cloth of a low-cut blouse, he would have never believed it. Or, most likely, he would have thought it to be a mockery, like a usual portion of snide remarks he had to bear on a regular basis. Most of all from Donny or Hirschberg.

But the sight was here. Real. Almost touchable. And for a while he was blinking stupidly, desperately trying to remember where the hell he might be right now, while the breasts in front of him were heaving. Before they suddenly moved back. So did their owner and his gaze cautiously shifted to her face, taking in her gentle features, brown eyes and soft ringlets of long dark red hair, and that reminded him of an angel he had seen _ages ago_ in one of his grandfather's old leather-bound books.

So it was heaven. And this heaven smelled like vanilla; a familiar, sweet, heavy scent that hit his nostrils and even irritated his taste buds with some reminiscence of cookies his mother had baked every Friday when he was a child.

He opened his mouth to say something, but his voice somehow got clogged in his throat when this angelic creature met his eyes.

'You're awake,' she said and for a while he just stared at her surprised that he had no problems in understanding what she had said. 'I was plumping up your pillows,' she explained and he nodded absentmindedly.

'I'm probably dead,' he muttered hesitantly and the girl chuckled.

'No. You're not. It's just that... you've been sleeping for the whole day.'

'Have I?' he raised an eyebrow and she chuckled again.

'My name's Mona,' she said, holding out her hand and he shook it clumsily.

'Smithson,' he mumbled uncertainly.

'Nice name,' she smiled, and though this smile was rather like a smirk, he grinned at her.

'I thought you were an angel,' he said, feeling himself blushing and she snorted with laughter. Melodic, infectious, rippling laughter.

'Sorry,' she said. 'That's not the kind of name I hear too often.'

He made an attempt to sit up, but he felt dizzy at once and his head drooped onto the pillows again.

'Don't!' she protested. 'Don't get up. You're supposed to stay in bed and if you get hurt, Mrs. Larmount will surely bite my head off.'

'Mrs. Larmount?' he asked in surprise.

'Sophie's grandmother,' the girl explained. 'You remember Sophie?'

Utivich closed his eyes for a while. He definitely remember something. _Something_. But right know his head was spinning and any details were escaping the moment he tried to focus on them, so he only nodded hesitantly.

'You're at her place now,' she smiled. 'And I'll take care of you.'

He noticed a movement behind her back and a boy – not much younger than him – who suddenly appeared in the doorway gave a loud laugh.

'Oh, man!' he winked at Utivich. 'You'd better make your last will right now.'

XXX

'I thought you didn't like her,' Aldo threw a glance at his second-in-command over a mug of particularly bad coffee and his face contorted hideously when he took a sip. 'Good Lord, what the fuck is this?'

'It's not about her,' Donny averted his eyes for a moment before he continued in a voice that was supposed to be both totally indifferent and highly convincing, a mixture somehow too complicated for The Bear Jew to control it smoothly. Especially as he had some difficulty in meeting his commander's eyes.

'It's that people are tired, sir, so I just thought… who knows… maybe it would be good to take a breather and check what's going on with Utivich. And the weather's fucking wicked,' he hastened to add, though this last statement was utter nonsense; it had stopped raining in the morning and the sky cleared up, which definitely raised morale in the squad.

'Maybe just a few days…,' Donny looked away and crushed a lump of earth between his fingers.

The lieutenant was watching him with an expression that clearly told, no, _screamed_ that he did not buy it at all, but before he could reply, he suddenly realized something. Two seemingly unimportant factors. _But when you've been a commander for so long, you just notice such things._ Inevitably. Especially as they were hard to miss.

First, a silence that was hanging over the clearing; all usual talks and taunts had died away a while ago as if they were all listening carefully to Donowitz's words while pretending not to be listening at all.

Second, furtive glances some of them kept casting at him, averting their eyes at once when their met his. Which in all probability meant that the news concerning Mrs. Larmount's puzzling invitation had already spread among his men and in all probability the messenger responsible for that was now sitting right in front of him, waiting expectantly for the final result of his diplomatic efforts.

The lieutenant took another sip of his coffee, although he immediately regretted it, and he fixed his eyes on a nearby tree. Yeah, he had been planning to contact their new _highly valuable assistant_ soon, but – _honestly_ – it had been only five days since their meeting and he wanted to give her some time to collect all necessary information he needed. They could wait a few days more, even if Donowitz was going to nag him every fucking hour.

Then he darted a glance towards Stiglitz who was sitting apart from the others, checking a machine gun he had captured two days ago, his expression as impassive as usual and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. But when he felt the lieutenant's gaze he met his eyes immediately and they were eyeing each other for a long moment until the German threw the cigarette to the ground and a faint smirk appeared on his face.

'Alright, boys,' Aldo stood up to his full height and looked around, immediately catching their full attention.

'You wanna a holiday?' he asked, though right now the question was purely rhetorical. 'So you must deserve it first. Thirty more scalps and we'll take a few days off'. He smiled his lopsided smile that should have automatically aroused suspicion. 'Plus twenty for Utivich.'


	11. Chapter 11

**11. A meeting**

'They planned what?' Paul nearly choke on his drink and Sophie gave a short laugh at his reaction, quite pleased with the effect her revelations caused.

They were sitting at the table in the large kitchen of his tavern, where Paul had brought her so that they could quietly discuss the last week's events. In private; Paul's mother had left her usual sanctuary to give them some privacy and she was wiping tables in the main room, whereas _François, Sophie's usual driver,_had been told to stay in the car for this part of their visit, which of course did not make him happy at all.

There was still enough time left before the opening hours and Sophie was sipping her wine unhurriedly, particularly glad that she did not have to wear her usual work uniform. This time it was not necessary. She acted as herself.

Well, _almost_ herself.

'Like I said, the plan was simple. Extremely simple,' Sophie continued in a low voice. 'They wanted to wait until those soldiers were completely drunk and then they were going to disarm and kill them. Or maybe kill and disarm, I'm not sure about the exact sequence of events, but the result would have been approximately the same. A military action,' she smirked mockingly at the memory of the night conversation she had held with Lt. Raine not so long ago.

Paul's eyes grew wider.

'You mean here?' he groaned in disbelief. And anxiety.

'Quiet,' she said warningly. His mother could not certainly hear them from the other room – even if she was interested in whatever kind of business her son had with _the Larmount girl_ – but Marie, the waitress, might come to work earlier, as she occasionally did, and this part of their conversation was not exactly intended for her ears.

'Here?' he repeated and she nodded, watching his expression in amusement.

'And what the hell would I have done with four dead Krauts in my tavern?' he whispered dramatically.

'No idea,' she shrugged. 'I guess they didn't really take that into account. Apparently it was a good thing that you asked me to take them out of here. Really good. Not only for them.'

He cursed under his breath. 'Do they have any idea about what we're doing here?'

'Now they know,' she admitted, lighting a cigarette.

'So I hope they won't come up again with anything like that.'

'Definitely not this way,' she smirked slightly as he gave her a searching look. 'That's exactly what I need to discuss with you.'

'So what are they planning now? Attack on a German post?' he snorted in laughter, but she kept a straight face and his smile was slowly fading while they were looking at each other in silence.

'Which one?' he eventually asked.

She wrote the name of the street on a piece of paper and passed it to him. He read it quickly and whistled quietly before he lit a match and put it to the scrap.

'Quite ambitious,' he commented, watching the fire ravage the paper and reduce it to ashes. 'They mean a direct attack?'

'Not direct,' she denied, putting out the cigarette in the ashtray before she finished it. 'We must invent some excuse to get inside.'

'We?' he raised an eyebrow, watching her closely.

'Yes, you've heard well,' she suppressed a smile, knowing well that smiling could only make the things worse. 'I mean them and myself. Or rather Sophie von Eckstein,' she hastened to add before he managed to interrupt.

His mouth twisted into an unpleasant grimace. 'Whose idea was it?'

'Actually mine,' she admitted, holding his gaze even though now it was particularly unpleasant.

'You've completely lost your mind!' he hissed, his voice a bit louder than he intended and she cast a quick glance at the doorway leading to the main room.

'Don't shout,' she asked calmly.

'Alright, alright,' he agreed, irritation still evident in his voice. 'So I repeat my question. Are you crazy?'

She grimaced. 'I thought you'd be delighted. If I remember right, you were so eager to help them. Why so little enthusiasm right now?'

'It's a dangerous job,' he admitted, his tone gloomy and harsh.

'Not for them.'

'Jesus Christ, I don't mean them!' he said impatiently. 'They can do whatever they want. They're fucking professionals. They're fucking good at that job. I don't need to worry about them,' he gave her an intense look. 'What I mean is you. You've never done anything like that.'

She averted her eyes immediately, dropped them to her wine. You don't know that, she thought raising the glass to her lips to hide an involuntary smile, but I did worse. Much worse. And I had to go through much worse trouble when something went wrong.

She took a sip of the dark red liquid that was so delightfully good on her palate and for a moment she felt a sudden – _and rather silly_ – urge to tell him the truth. Not for the first time; she had felt it on many occasions before. Yet she stifled this urge before it could become any stronger. Paul was not acquainted with any details of her double identity and she was not going to change this state of affairs without a really good reason.

Not that she did not trust him. She did. But trust had really nothing to do with that.

'I'd like to help them,' she said quietly after a moment of unbearable silence. 'And it's no more dangerous than anything I'm doing here. It's just different.'

'Still fucking risky,' he said matter-of-factly, his irritation gone almost completely.

'Why? It's definitely easier to raid a small post in the suburbs than the headquarters in the centre of Paris.'

'It's not an ordinary…' he began, but she interrupted him.

'I know. That's why I suggested this one.'

'What if someone recognizes you?' he asked, much calmer this time, but still obviously not approving of the whole idea.

'Not me,' she shrugged. 'Sophie von Eckstein. Besides we… they don't really plan to leave any witnesses.'

'I see,' he gave her a searching look. 'If they want to get inside officially, they'll need a damn good plan. And really good papers.'

She nodded. 'You're right, of course.'

'So maybe you should contact this friend of yours,' he suggested. 'What's his name? Monsieur Maroz? Marez?'

'I've already met him,' she held his gaze, although for a second his eyes gleamed with something she could not define well. Like irritation combined with excitement.

'In fact two hours ago,' she added. 'He's flourishing in Paris.'

Paul did not return a smile.

'You're not wasting time,' he said wryly. 'And what do you want from me? Permission for your involvement?' She felt a touch of irony in his voice, but the question was quite serious.

Paul was more than just her contact in the French Resistance, he was a sort of commander. She was responsible to him. Formally. And theoretically.

But Paul was neither much of a formalist nor a theoretician.

'Permission,' she agreed. 'Acceptance. And help.'

He was silent for a while, watching her with a slightly irritated expression and she did not urge him, waiting patiently for any decision he had to take.

'All right then', he finally said. 'When are you going to do this?'

She risked a faint smile to which he responded with a grin, half-amused and half-irritated.

'When we're ready,' she said.

'So what you wanna from me?' Paul emptied his glass in one gulp and looked at her expectantly.

'Any information you can get,' she almost whispered and he leaned forward not to miss any word. 'What we can expect there. How many guards. How many Germans altogether. Guardhouses. Weapons. Stuff like that.'

'Normally about fifteen,' he said, his tone totally businesslike. 'Fifteen Krauts. I'll check exactly and let you know about everything I'll be able to find out. Just give me some time.'

'How much?'

'Not much, don't worry.' His grin widened. 'I'll inform you very soon. I can even draw you the plan of this place. I've been there once.'

'Have you?' she asked in surprise.

'Yeah,' he smiled. 'The sins of youth. It was a police station before the war.'

And of course he could not refrain from telling her the whole story, both funny and disgusting details of his arrest after a night spent in a bar in the company of a good Scotch – and they were laughing at this until Marie came to work and Sophie said she must be leaving.

Paul saw her to the main room and when they were saying goodbye his mood was light and his eyes mischievous. Enough to ask her the question she had been expecting for the whole afternoon.

'Are you going to tell me how you met… him?' he asked quite unexpectedly, changing the last word at her warning glance. His mother still removing some invisible dust from the last table and Marie standing behind the counter were not exactly the audience she would like to have while answering any questions about Stiglitz.

'No, I'm not,' she rolled her eyes. 'So you can stop bothering me about that. Or you can ask _François_. He'll tell you his theory.'

Paul winked at her. 'I'm not asking about what I've already know.' He chuckled at her puzzled expression. 'Frank mentioned one or two details when we were bringing crates to the basement.'

She sighed irritably. 'I really shouldn't leave this gossip alone even for a moment.'

Paul smirked. 'Don't blame the boy. So?' he prompted. 'Are you going to tell me?'

Sophie hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully.

'I just met him two years ago. He kind of helped me. And now he simply recognized me. That's all. No romance involved.'

'No romance then or no romance now? Your grandmother doesn't usually get mad without a reason.'

'Like I said, no romance. Stop laughing,' she smiled with slight irritation at his insistence, but a sudden change she saw in his face and a glance he shot at the door behind her immediately wiped her smile off.

She turned around to follow his gaze and what she saw froze her to the spot.

There was a man standing at the doorframe. A German. A German officer dressed in a black uniform and a long leather coat; an attire that left her in no doubt about his profession. She recognized this style perfectly. The Gestapo.

He met her eyes for a second before his gaze turned to Paul.

'Bonjour,' he smiled at them, a slimy, sugary smile that made her blood curdle, but she replied to his greeting almost as casually as Paul and the man's smile grew wider. And more slimy.

'Are you open?' he asked in French, his German accent distinct. 'The entrance door was open. May I come in?'

To his credit, Paul composed his face in record time, promptly replacing the utter amazement that had graced his features a moment ago with professional attentiveness.

'By all means, major,' he said politely, gesturing to the nearest table, but the German did not move.

'I really like these small French taverns,' he said while his gaze was gliding over the room unhurriedly, taking in wooden tables, rows of bottles behind the counter and Marie, who was casting anxious glances at all of them.

Sophie did not take her eyes off him, analyzing his pale face, studying every little detail.

There was something wrong about this man, something that had lit a red warning light in the back of her mind the moment her eyes rested upon him. And it was not his Gestapo uniform. Not a sugary smile that in fact did not reach his eyes. Not even the skull and crossbones symbol that ornamented his cap. It was something else, something vague, indefinable, though Marta would probably called it an aura. He gave her the creeps.

And just when she realized that, he shot a look at her again.

'Is this charming lady your wife?' he asked Paul, who smiled widely.

'No, unfortunately not. Mademoiselle Larmount is just one of our suppliers.'

'Really?' the Gestapo major raised his eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. 'Forgive my professional curiosity, but what exactly do you supply here?'

It was really strange but she managed to find her voice at once and it did not sound neither hoarse nor shaky.

'Wine. Apples. Meat. Fish. Whatever the owner orders,' she explained with a smile so charming that it must have dispelled his doubt.

At least she hoped so.

'I see.' His smirk turned into a smile, although the difference between one and the other was hardly noticeable. 'I haven't introduced myself. Major Dieter Hellstrom, at your service.'

'Sophie Larmount,' she said, her lips still twisted into a smile.

To her surprise he held out his hand and when she automatically held out hers he did not shake it as she supposed he would. He raised it to his lips instead, leaning forward slightly, slowly, as if he wanted to test her reaction, and his mouth touched the back of her hand, leaving a wet trace on her skin.

And when he let go of her hand, he gave her a close, piercing look.

'Please excuse my presumptuousness, Mademoiselle Larmount, but haven't we met before?'

She cringed inwardly, though her expression betrayed nothing.

'I'm sorry, major, but I really can't remember all handsome officers I see in Paris.'

'No, no, no,' he said pensively. 'I don't think it was Paris.'

Deep inside she felt her slight prick of anxiety turn into the wave of panic. Quite irrational. He can't have known her.

At least she did not know him.

'So maybe Zurich?' she suggested. 'I lived with my parents in Switzerland for quite a couple of years.'

'That explains your slightly different accent,' he smiled, and it was written all over his face. He could not remember where he had met her. At least not yet.

And it was definitely wise to get out of his sight without delay.

'Probably you're right,' she admitted. 'Now I wish you a nice evening.'

'You're leaving?' he asked but the question sounded quite innocent. No suspicion, no threat or insistence in it.

'Yes, major. I was just about to leave when you came,' she gave him another charming smile that covered her feelings well enough.

'Goodbye then. I won't delay you any longer.' He cast a last close glance at her and eventually moved to choose himself a table.

She said goodbye to Paul, who winked at her and said that he would send his order soon. Marie smiled at her faintly, evidently anxious at the prospect of having a German major in their tavern. Paul's mother gave her a parting smile and Sophie went to the door, feeling Hellstrom's gaze on her back, almost sure that any moment a sharp voice from behind would stop her.

She did her best not to run the moment she left the tavern. She did not even quicken the pace too much and the distance she had to cover to reach the car seemed unbearably long. Frank noticed a change on her face at once and she told him whom she met in Paul's tavern. She told him everything. Except for all forebodings she had about that meeting. And she ignored his attempts at a conversation on their way back.

She was still scared. Terribly.

When they arrived home, she told him to release the dogs and stay on watch in the orchard before she stormed into the house like a hurricane, immediately catching the attention of those she wanted to talk to. This time the family meeting was brief and constructive. Gran heard her out in silence and announced her verdict with no hesitation. All, absolutely all temporary residents of their place must be taken to the basement immediately. No exception.

To say they were not happy about this was a total understatement. Mona got really angry and she accused Sophie of being paranoid. Karl, her brother, took offence at her for forcing him into the basement again; the same basement he had already left months ago. And Sarah burst into tears so violently that Sophie felt a twinge of almost physical pain.

But she was unyielding. They were all moved to basement rooms at once.

Utivich only shrugged his shoulders when she announced their decision to him and the necessity of hiding in the basement did not bother him in the least. He was not confined to bed any more and Sophie had the impression that he would happily follow any of their requests as long as he was close to Mona. A week was enough for the ginger beauty to wrap him around her little finger.

Hardly anyone slept well that night and when Emma arrived on the next day, early in the morning, Sophie started shooting questions at her even before the panting woman could even take off her coat and make herself comfortable in an armchair.

Emma only frowned slightly at the commotion.

'Everything's OK,' she explained calmly. 'He didn't ask any more questions about you, didn't mention you at all, didn't even talk to Paul more than necessary. He just had dinner, complimented Paul's mum on the stew, had two beers, read several pages of whatever book he had with him, smoked plenty of cigarettes and left before ten'.

'It was a Gestapo officer. They never come without a reason,' Sophie answered and immediately regretted saying that out loud as she cast a quick, worried look at the other woman.

One of Emma's nephews had been arrested by men in leather coats last year and to this day his fate had been unknown, in spite of his family's numerous attempts to learn the truth.

'It seems that this one did.' Emma smiled wryly. 'It wasn't an official visit. He just wanted to eat and drink. They also have their needs.'

Sophie averted her eyes and the woman took her hand.

'My dear, if I had known you would be so nervous, I would have come here yesterday.'

'You also think I'm exaggerating?' Sophie asked.

Emma watched her for a long moment.

'It's not a matter of exaggerating. Now you can cancel the alarm. But be careful. Very careful. In everything you do.'

XXX

Two large black dogs appeared out of thin air, emerged from behind raspberry bushes quite unexpectedly, menacing and silent as ghosts.

Stiglitz, who was leading their little group through the orchard, stopped dead in his track as soon as he saw them, and he warned the others in a low voice. But the dogs did not lunge at them – they stopped as well, keeping their distance as if invisible leashes did not allow them to come any closer.

'You didn't mention any dogs,' Aldo cursed under his breath.

'There weren't any dogs before,' Hugo replied calmly. 'Don't move,' he said, when Donowitz shifted impatiently and Hirschberg started to sneak away.

'We can't just stay here for the whole afternoon,' Donowitz grimaced. 'Maybe we should just shoot them down,' he added, not taking his eyes off the dogs even for a moment.

'That won't be necessary,' a sudden voice alarmed them only for a second.

_François_ came out from behind a tree and the dogs noiselessly moved closer, flanking him when he shook hands with Donny and Hugo. And with the other two men, when Stiglitz made the introductions.

'Why did you let these beasts out?' Donowitz was the first to ask the question that bothered them all. 'They scared us shitless.'

'Sophie's orders,' Frank explained briefly.

'I should have known that,' Donny cast a furtive glance at Stiglitz. And kept his further comments to himself.

Aldo frowned a bit. 'Is the invitation still open? Or is it your way to cancel it?'

'No, no, sir,' _François denied promptly. 'It's just… precautions.'_

_'Precautions?'_

_'Yes,' the boy shrugged again. 'Mrs. Larmount will explain it better. But before we go to the house, sir, you'd better leave some of your men on guard.'_

_Aldo watched him closely for a while, before he gave relevant orders to Hirschberg, who turned _on his heel and promptly marched back to the truck they had left in the forest_._

The dogs followed them lazily as Frank was leading them forward and when the whole group reached the edge of the orchard, the house came into view at its best. As well as a reception committee standing at the porch and Aldo immediately understood the true reason why Donowitz had never really stopped nagging him about coming here.

Women. Which definitely meant that he would have to keep an eye on his boys at any time.

He had no idea which of them – a red-haired girl in a green dress or a blond woman standing beside her – was responsible for a wide, dreamy grin that bloomed on Donny's face. Most probably both of them.

Perhaps it was also Sophie, who gave them a faint smile. Or maybe it was intended only for Stiglitz, whose eyes – Aldo could bet his whole military pay – had been riveted on her since they had come out into the open.

The elderly lady who appeared at the porch as they came closer eyed them with both caution and interest and it became clear to Aldo that whatever he was going to say he should say it right to her. And when she turned her gaze on him he saw something in her face – some authority, dignity and tenacity – that almost made him click his heels and salute. But of course he did not do this.

'Good afternoon, Mrs. Larmount,' he said and she gave him a nod.

'My name's Lt. Aldo Raine,' he continued when she remained silent, her eyes bored into him apraisingly. 'But I'm sure you already know that.'

'You're right, lieutenant,' she said and her voice sounded strong and firm, even though her English was coated with a melodious French accent. 'We're glad you've come. Very glad indeed. Would you mind if we talk in private for a while?'

Aldo eyed her for a moment. 'Right now?' he asked to make sure he understood her well.

'Right now,' she confirmed with a quizzical smile.

'Alright,' he nodded, not sure what to expect. But ready to learn that at once.

Sophie slipped out of the porch just after her grandmother and the lieutenant went to the sitting room, but she directed her steps towards the kitchen, now completely empty, as almost everyone was out to welcome the guests. She took a cup out of the cupboard to make herself just another coffee.

She did not hear him coming in, did not hear his footsteps at all, and a gentle touch on her shoulder startled her as much as a sudden voice.

'Escaping from me? You should have chosen a less obvious place.'

XXXXXXXXXX

Sorry for ending it like that, but I really couldn't carry on with this chapter ad infinitum :-). So I decided to move their conversation to the next chapter where it looks better.

Hope you liked this one, especially as the long-awaited Hellstrom finally appeared to play quite a nice part in this story :-).

Thanks for reading and of course constructive criticism welcome as always.


	12. Chapter 12

**12. ****Surprises**

She should have known that.

It was rather obvious that he would search around for her; she had seen that at the porch when she cast one brief glance at him only to find him staring at her impudently, his gaze so intense and piercing that she looked away at once.

And yet he managed to startle her, as creeping up was probably a part of his soldier's training. She moved at both the sudden voice and his touch and the cup she was holding almost slipped out of her hand.

'Escaping from me?' he repeated his question and she sighed in frustration, feeling his presence behind her. Close enough. _Too close_.

'Why do you think so?' she winced slightly, not able to turn around and face him yet, but quite able to inject some indifference into her tone.

'Not even bothering to say hello,' he replied, an inevitable teasing edge to his voice.

'Hello,' she turned to him without a smile, meeting his eyes almost defiantly.

'I was hoping for a warmer reception,' he smirked, not stepping back. Not even intending to step back. 'Much warmer in fact.'

'Were you?' she raised an eyebrow in a studied gesture of surprise. Surprise she did not feel at all and she was almost sure that he knew that. Saw her through with these pale blue eyes, both mocking and sharp.

'I know it was almost two weeks...' he started, but she did not let him finish.

'A week and two days,' she informed him coldly. 'Enough time to gather information for Aldo if that's what you mean.'

'You are very precise in your calculation,' he admitted, completely ignoring the part about Aldo and information. 'That bodes well.'

She did not know whether – and _why_ – that boded well or not, but his tone, his eyes and the unbearable air of smugness radiating from him definitely turned her frustration into irritation.

She gave a laugh. Short. Mocking. And absolutely insincere. 'So you think I counted these days? Missed you? Wrong guess. I didn't.'

'Nor did I,' he said after a moment, apparently amused by this little demonstration and she narrowed her eyes.

'I mean I didn't have time to count days. I was busy,' he hastened to add, and a smile or a smirk – she could never completely distinguish between them – widened. 'The lieutenant gave us some work to do before we came here.'

'I can imagine that,' she grimaced at a sudden memory and he chuckled lightly.

'I'm sure you can. But you'd better not try.'

She glared at him for this slightly patronizing tone, but of course he did not avert his eyes, and a smile playing on his lips widened. And he slowly, almost imperceptibly moved closer.

So close that the smell of pine needles she had already felt before became more intense, and for a fraction of a second she was wondering whether it was his clothes or his skin. Whether he had been rolling around on pine branches before they arrived here and her mouth twitched a little at this last thought.

And she suddenly felt trapped between the edge of the table behind and his immovable form in front of her. But when she wanted to slip out of this trap, he did not allow her; with a snake-like motion he held out his hand and propped it on the table as if involuntarily, yet blocking her way, and she gave him a warning glance.

Which in fact did not work. Quite the opposite; he did not withdraw his hand, but seemed to be getting closer, though she could swear he had not moved an inch.

'So you say you didn't miss me,' he said quietly in German. 'Sadly, I can't say the same about myself.'

For a moment she simply stared at him with wide eyes, in total astonishment, surprised not only by what he had said, but also by his tone, so oddly gentle, so completely devoid of its usual mocking sparks. But the slam of a door somewhere in the house broke the charm, snapped her out of this idiotic daze.

'We don't speak German here. In this house,' She said flatly, once again forcing indifference into her tone and he raised an eyebrow, before a flash of understanding appeared in his eyes.

'So that's the problem right now?' he asked deceptively calm. 'My uncomfortable descent?'

She looked away, feeling a stupid blush spreading across her face and furious at herself for starting this subject in the first place.

'Gran doesn't approve of…'

'Gran?' he cut her off. 'But she's not even here at the moment.'

She closed her eyes for a second and flinched when his fingers brushed her cheek lightly, but he withdrew his hand at that very instant.

'Something's wrong?' he asked, studying her face. Scanning it again as if he was trying to decipher any hidden message written there. 'Apart from the fact that you might have been missing a German, which is a serious faux pas in this house,' he smirked his usual smirk and she rolled her eyes, though only half-heartedly, too distracted at that moment to really concentrate on his words.

'So something _is_ wrong,' he concluded.

'Why do you think so?' That sounded hopelessly false.

He snorted in laughter. 'The boy, Frank, is not quite himself. Neither are you.'

'You don't know me well enough to tell that,' she informed him icily. 'Why don't you…' she paused when his hand suddenly shot up to rest gently on her shoulder.

'Don't,' he said. 'Don't start this again. Just tell me what's wrong.'

She blinked. Twice. Then again, but he waited patiently.

'I must talk to the lieutenant as soon as my grandma finishes with him.'

'I'm afraid it may take a while,' he chuckled softly. 'The generals' meeting.'

'I'm not in the mood to joke.'

'I noticed that much. Care to tell me what happened?'

She shrugged with resignation.

'There was a Gestapo officer, a major, in Paul's tavern,' she paused, but he waited for her to continue. 'He came there when I was just about to leave. Talked to Paul. And to me.'

'He questioned you?' Stiglitz's tone was calm, matter-of-fact, but she could feel a note of impatience right behind it.

'No,' she shrugged. 'Not really. Paul told him I was one of his suppliers and he asked a few questions. But he…,' she shrugged again.

'Scared you.' Stiglitz finished the sentence when it became clear that she was not going to do that.

She nodded after a moment of hesitation.

'He seemed almost sure we must have met before. Me and him.'

'Was he right?'

She snorted. 'I don't know. I can't remember that man. _That_ face.'

'So what's the problem?' Stiglitz's voice seemed calm, emotionless. 'I guess it's not the first time you've come across a Gestapo officer.'

'It's stupid,' she started, lowering her eyes for a moment. 'I just can't stop thinking that he may know me. Me. Not Sophie Larmount, but me,' she said forcibly, searching his face for any hint of amusement.

Yet this time he did not even smile.

'Premonition?'

'Maybe,' she dropped her eyes again. 'Sometimes I'm almost sure he knows me. I…' she bit her lip. No way she would tell him more. No way she would tell him a dream she had had two days before. The dream she had woken from at dawn, with her body sticky with sweat and her hands shaking.

Stiglitz was silent only for a moment long enough to draw a conclusion that seemed reasonable enough.

'It still looks like an incidental meeting,' he said. 'And he hasn't come to arrest you yet, which is a good omen. You know his name?'

She nodded, closing her eyes at a memory. 'Hellstrom. Dieter Hellstrom.'

Suddenly his hand became painfully heavy on her shoulder and she looked up in surprise, taking in a sudden change in his features, his jaws clenched, his eyes gleaming in fury.

But he composed his face as soon as he met her eyes.

'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.'

He suddenly pulled her to himself, wrapping his arms around her for a second, but let go of her at once. She glared at him for this – _well,_ quite a bold move – ready to push him away if he tried this again, but a sudden realization made her forget that completely.

'You know him,' she stated the fact, her eyes wide with amazement. 'This Hellstrom. You know him.'

'Hardly,' he said after a moment, his face a stone mask. 'I met him twice. And unfortunately I didn't have the occasion to meet him once again.'

'Unfortunately?' she frowned, not quite understanding what the hell he meant.

'Hellstrom…,' Stiglitz hesitated for another moment, and his gaze wandered somewhere above her head, 'he was on my list. They arrested me before I paid him a visit. How unfortunate.'

She opened her mouth to ask a question that begged to be asked, but when he looked at her again he had already returned to his previous role. _That of a smug, smirking asshole_.

'He didn't recognize you, I'm sure,' he announced. 'If he did, his men in leather coats would have already come here.'

She sighed. That was nothing revealing; she had realized that two days ago and did not really need Stiglitz's words of worldly wisdom to know that.

'Of course that doesn't mean that you should drop your guard completely,' he presented his most irritating smirk. 'But there's no need to be paranoid.'

She scowled at him. 'Really? You're not the first person to tell me that.'

'Really?' he smiled. 'So maybe there's a grain of truth in it.'

She opened her mouth to make a suitably spiteful retort, but it was when she noticed that they were not alone any more. Jeanette had appeared at the doorframe silently like a ghost, which was absolutely unbelievable, considering her imposing figure, and she shook her head mockingly when Sophie cast an alarmed glance at her over Stiglitz's shoulder.

'You can go out of here. Your grandma and the lieutenant have just finished their _debate_,' she grimaced at the last word.

'And?' Stiglitz turned around. 'No casualties? No injuries?'

'Not yet,' Jeanette did not even blink. 'But you'd better not provoke the fate. Now off, both of you. It looks like I'm supposed to cook a dinner for the whole platoon.'

XXX

'So you know him?' Aldo's eyes swiftly moved from Wicki to Sophie before they stopped at Stiglitz's face.

'I do,' the German confirmed briefly, _as usual_, and the lieutenant stifled a sigh of irritation.

They were crowded in one of the guest rooms that seemed oddly small with the three of them standing right in the middle of it, not to mention Wicki propped against the windowsill, peeping through the window as if anything he could see outside was far more absorbing than their discussion.

Donowitz was sprawled on the sofa and he seemed strangely quiet, even lost in thoughts, which unusual condition, Sophie thought, might have been caused by the recent sight of Mona and Utivich, treacherously sticking together, their eyes fixed on each other as if there was nobody around.

'And?' the lieutenant did his best not to make himself sound impatient. Or irritated.

'Exceptional son of a bitch,' Stiglitz was finally kind enough to go into details. 'Sadist. So inventive in his bad inclinations that he's made a brilliant career in the Gestapo. Got promoted every year.'

Aldo nodded thoughtfully.

'And you?' his gaze moved to Sophie 'Have you met him before or not? Remember something?'

'I don't know,' she shrugged. 'I really can't remember meeting him before but there's still a chance he might have seen me. Here or in Poland.'

'Maybe you just resemble someone he's met. He thinks he knows you but he's wrong.'

'Or maybe he isn't,' Wicki ceased his contemplation of the landscape to add a comment.

'Maybe,' Aldo agreed, not taking his eyes off the girl. 'You think he could decipher you? Recognize you?'

'Probably not. Or not yet. Maybe it's just a matter of time,' she added and that got Donowitz's attention.

'How can you know that?' he asked doubtfully.

She shrugged again.

'I can't. It's just women's intuition.'

Donowitz refrained from comment, but his expression spoke for itself. And Aldo frowned slightly at this degree of certainty. _Women_.

'When exactly was it?' he got back to facts, taking the familiar small box out of his pocket.

'On Tuesday.'

Aldo's lips twisted impatiently.

'Geez, Sophie. We don't have a calendar. How many days ago?'

'Three.'

'Anyone following you? Observing the house?'

She shook her head. 'I don't think so. The dogs would have found them. That's why we're keeping them outside all the time.'

'And the tavern?'

She shook her head. 'Paul arranged someone to check if the tavern is not observed by the Gestapo and so far we've found nothing suspicious.'

Aldo was silent for a moment long enough to enjoy his portion of medicine.

'D'you think,' he looked at Sophie again, 'that we should give up our plans?'

'No,' she did not delay giving her answer, but he wanted to be sure that she really meant it.

'If you think it's too risky now…'

'No,' she cut him off. 'We can still do that.'

He grinned at her. 'Good. We'll talk tomorrow.'

She nodded, looking up at him in a way that made the lieutenant think that not everything was so good after all.

'Listen,' he said as an afterthought, 'If that Hellstrom turns up here, we'll be glad to meet him. You don't need to worry so much. We'll take care of that.'

'If you are around,' she said and he gave her a long, searching look, a smile gradually disappearing from his face.

'Yes,' he finally agreed. 'If we're around.'

XXX

Surprisingly, the dinner in the company of Aldo and the flower of his chivalry, his _officers_ –and the convalescent Utivich rewarded with this honour quite unexpectedly while the rest of the Basterds were dining in the kitchen under Jeanette's close supervision – was not such a catastrophe as Sophie had expected it to be.

They were doing well. Behaving themselves. Or at least trying to.

The lieutenant must have given some instructions to his men before they had arrived here, and he definitely had an extra briefing with them right after his conversation with the Mrs. Larmount, when he took all of them outside and for at least fifteen minutes was explaining something to them, his expression dead serious.

Sophie could only guess what her grandmother had told him and what promises she had extorted from him, but she was quite positive that at least a part of their top secret conversation had much to do with her. And Stiglitz. Who, by the way, reapplied his tactic of ignoring her. Completely. Not sparing her a single glance since they all sat down in the dining room.

Not that she was unhappy about that – at least the dinner was proceeding smoothly, the ice had been broken to some extent and the only person apparently uncomfortable was Utivich, surprised by Donny's murderous glares, the reason of which he did not understand at all.

And maybe it was not the best idea to seat Aldo next to Martha whose conception of officers must have been strongly based on some memories of her husband, may he rest in peace, and his friends from the same regiment, each of whom having a reputation of an every inch gentleman. Not exactly the thing to say about the Basterds.

'So you fight German soldiers in France, Lt. Raine?' she asked politely in a conversational tone just after the soup had been served and Aldo's face grinned in a diabolic smile.

'Yes, ma'am,' he agreed in an equally polite tone. 'Actually we slaughter them, scalp them, cut their faces and Donowitz there,' he gestured to his second in command, who gave a charming grin, glad that the lieutenant involved him into a conversation with that lady, 'beats them to death with his baseball bat.'

"Ah" was the only comment Marta managed to make and she fixed her eyes on the plate in front of her.

Much to Donny's disappointment; he had expected at least a slight interest in his professional achievements, an admiring glance, a smile, anything that could become a nice beginning of a promising acquaintance; after all, he was Aldo's second in command not for his pretty face. At the moment, however, her expression was far from mute admiration.

But when he looked around to check the others' reactions, he saw a girl standing at the door. Staring at him intensely. The blonde girl they had already met here. Nadine, he thought, glad that he could remember her name. But as soon as he smiled at her she turned on her heel and left.

Aldo noticed confusion on his sergeant's face, but right now he was much more absorbed by Mrs. Larmount's disapproving frown and he found it tactically astute to keep the conversation going. But to change the subject.

'That's a nice place you have here, ma'am,' he looked across the table at the elderly lady, who nodded, but did not reply, waiting for him to continue. 'But it's so far away from the rest of the world. Aren't you afraid of…,' he hesitated.

'Wolves?' she gave him a slightest of smiles. 'We're not so easily scared, lieutenant.'

'What about bad people?' Aldo grinned. 'You're here all by yourselves, all women. And you only have this boy Frank to protect you.'

The elderly lady smiled slyly.

'That will change soon. My granddaughter is practically engaged to a family friend's son. Which means that we're going to have male company here really soon. If that's what you're concerned about, lieutenant.'

Sophie raised her eyebrow, unsure if she had heard her grandmother right. But Aldo's questioning look, Marta's glance of surprise and Mona's did-I-miss-something grimace proved that there was nothing wrong with her hearing.

She looked at Stiglitz out of the corner of her eye, not quite sure what reaction she had expected from him. But he seemed to be completely oblivious to everything except for his plate. Which was not so much surprising; the soup was excellent.

XXX

It was after midnight when Sophie slipped out of her bathroom into a quite corridor. Even too quiet, taking into account the number of people staying under the same roof.

The long day had finally – _miraculously_ – come to an end. Sarah had been lulled to sleep in Martha's room and most of Lt. Raine's soldiers had been accommodated downstairs, except for those delegated to more entertaining tasks, like standing guard in the orchard. In the rain that had started early that evening.

She crossed the corridor hurriedly, catching a glimpse of Jeanette, who was sitting in the armchair near the stairs, looking through a magazine, which, Sophie guessed, was a good pretext to stay there on Gran's request. Making sure that no one – accidentally on purpose – strayed into the floor where the girls slept.

'Goodnight, Jeanette', she said and the cook raised her eyes for a moment to give her a searching look.

'Goodnight. Don't forget to lock the door. Unless you expect some visitors.'

'Sure,' Sophie smiled before she entered her room, switched on the light absentmindedly and closed the door behind her.

The voice, _his_ voice, reached her right after she turned the key, making her insides freeze, making her feel the hair raise on the back of her neck, which so far she had though to be nothing more than a much exaggerated literary description.

'It's not very reasonable to lock the door before you make sure that you're here alone.'

She slowly turned around, still wondering how she had managed not to scream.

He was sitting in the armchair, by the window, immovable, except for his mouth twitching in a suppressed laugh and she scowled at him.

'I can't remember inviting you in,' she said, her voice slightly trembling.

'That's right. So I invited myself.'

'How…,' she paused for a second, feeling her throat dry. 'How did you get here?'

Stiglitz gave a soft laugh.

'Years of experience in one of the best boarding schools in Frankfurt,' he said, his eyes roaming through her figure shamelessly, and she suddenly felt naked under her dressing gown. She crossed her arms.

'Something's wrong with your room?' she asked coldly.

He shrugged. 'The room is okay. But something's missing there.'

'Something?' she eyed him distrustfully.

'A conversation,' he said in a polite tone of explanation. 'An interesting evening conversation. I was bored.'

_Bored. Merely bored_. She scowled at him again.

'So you decided to come here. Do you want my grandmother to throw you out of the house? Or maybe to poison your breakfast?'

'Don't be melodramatic,' he stood up. 'Right now she's sleeping soundly in her bedroom.'

'How can you know that?'

He smiled slightly. 'Let's say I have some helpers in this house.'

_Great._

'So maybe these helpers were so kind as to tell you that she wakes up at least twice every night.'

He chuckled. 'Yesss. But usually not before two a.m.,' he looked at her closely. 'So we have two hours.'

'Two hours for what?' she narrowed her eyes at him.

'Why, for saying goodnight to each other. Or whatever you want,' he spread his arms in feigned helplessness.

'Goodnight then.' She brushed past him to the wardrobe and flung its door open.

He chuckled again.

'I'm not going to leave right now. Not after the great pains I've taken to get here.'

She did not answer as if choosing a dress for tomorrow was absorbing her completely, and felt a surge of satisfaction when she heard him give an impatient sigh.

'Ignoring me,' he pointed out, 'is not the best way to make me leave your bedroom before your grandmother wakes up and comes to check on you. Which is quite probable,' he paused for a moment. 'Though I guess that even she can't force the bolted door. That's why you locked it.'

She slowly, carefully closed the wardrobe door although honestly at that moment she felt like slamming it.

'D'you know that in Warsaw we used to shoot at Wehrmacht soldiers?' she asked, turning to him.

'Are you trying to discourage me?' a smile flitted across his face.

'It's a fact,' she gave him a stern look.

'Right now I don't care much about that.'

They looked at each other in silence for a bit too long for her to feel comfortable about that and she felt a ripple of unease when he took a step towards her.

'Was it true what your grandmother said about your engagement party coming soon?' he asked unexpectedly and she blinked in surprise, before shaking her head in amusement at the memory of Gran's sly move. Precautions, she supposed, taken to make sure that they would all keep away from her. Especially one of them.

'No,' she smiled quite against herself. 'She's just…'

'That's what I thought,' he smirked and suddenly drew her to himself with no warning at all, wrapping his arm around her waist, while his other hand brushed unruly strands of hair off her cheek in an impatient gesture.

This time he did not waste any second for slow foreplays, for giving her time to accommodate herself to the idea of having him so unbearably close. 'What are you…?' was all she managed to say before his mouth found hers. Covered it. Gagged her. And for several unbelievingly long seconds she was paralysed, completely unable to move. And to believe that this was really happening. That he finally had the audacity to cross the line he had been walking along for a while.

He promptly took advantage of this complete lack of resistance; pushed her gently backwards until her back touched the wardrobe door and then pressed his body to hers to prevent her from struggling. She still did nothing, however, as he cupped her face, his fingers grazing her skin before he entwined them in her hair and kissed her again. Not gazing away from her wide eyes, where disbelief was slightly dulled by fear.

And something he could not yet name, but it was just like on the night of their first meeting in a dark Warsaw street and he breathed in, feeling the same right now; her smell that had haunted him for months then, her surprise, her fear. And anticipation. How much she must have hated him then, how much she had been confused about his unexpected intervention. He had almost forgot that feeling, but right now began to remember other details.

_Her heart beating fast, much too fast as they were standing side by side, listening out, waiting for her brother to __turn up. The animosity emanating from her when she had overcome her first fear. Her sudden panic when they heard German voices in the street, soldiers patrolling the area after the curfew and he suddenly sensed a danger; quickly dragged her further into the dark __mouth of the yard a moment before one of them entered the gate. Not to approach them – he could not see them in the dark – merely to take care of his bladder._

_S__he was quick to understand his intentions, stopped struggling against his grasp and they were standing __motionless, waiting for the danger to pass; his fingers on her mouth, his arms tightened around her form, her back pressed against his chest. And all he was able to think about was her body pressed to his and her overwhelming smell. Cinnamon, but also something else._

_W__hen the soldier eventually finished and left, together with the others, their voices slowly receding, and she __broke out of his embrace impatiently,__ it took all his strength not to follow her. Not to wrap his arms around her again. And that was strange, unusual – he had never been a fan of extramarital affairs, had never even had this sort of thoughts. But never in his whole marriage had he been closer to __breaking this rule__ than at this very moment. Even though he had not quite comprehended the reason for that. Even though it had been an absolute madness._

Sophie suddenly blinked like someone shaken out of some hypnotic trance.

She had been shocked. It must have been shock, she thought as senses and reason were slowly returning to her. It must have been shock what had paralysed her. That was why, she was reasoning with herself, she had let him do that. Shock then, and a wave of panic when she suddenly realized that she had been locked in her own bedroom with him. Stiglitz. Not an ordinary skirt-chaser, but a man who, she supposed, had long ago got rid of qualms in getting what he wanted. Who could easily harm her. And even before she knew that she flattened her hands on his chest and pushed him away.

Or rather tried to. Honestly, pushing him away was like pushing away a solid concrete wall. She could just as well try to move the large oaken wardrobe that stood behind her.

She tried again, that time with more vigour, and for a while it did not work; he only pressed her closer to him, pinning her against the wardrobe door, his eyes half-closed. But when she let out a muffled sound of frustration, his eyes snapped open and he broke the kiss.

Yet he did not step back. His left arm was still wrapped around her, and they were staring at each other for a long moment, her breasts heaving against his chest.

'A bit too late to scream for help,' he eventually smirked.

'Just let me go,' she could hardly recognize her own voice, it was so hoarse and strange and what she was saying sounded by no means like an order.

'Can't,' Stiglitz said that without a smile and she nodded though she did not understand what he meant.

It seemed that a minute or so passed before he broke the silence again, his gaze now on her mouth and she licked her lips nervously.

'I missed you,' his eyes found hers again. 'You have no idea how much.'

'I didn't. I didn't miss you at all,' the words escaped her even before she realized that and a smirk graced his face in an instant.

'You're lying.'

'I'm not,' she snapped in frustration. 'I didn't…'

'Liar,' his hand touched her cheek, brushing it carefully and she shuddered, though neither with fear nor cold.

'Liar,' he repeated emphatically. And then he kissed her again.

This time it was different – more gentle, but at the same time more deliberate, more calculated than the previous violent outburst that had taken her by surprise. This time it was like he was trying to seduce her – and knew perfectly well that he was going to succeed. And, what was the worst part of it, she knew that too.

Not that she had never been kissed like that before. She had.

By her first boyfriend in the grammar school, which had been both charmingly awkward and stunningly charming.

By Kamil. Whose passion had equaled hers.

By a German officer she had been luring into a trap – perhaps he had somehow felt her intentions and wanted to steal that last kiss in his life. Or to gain time. And he had paid dearly for even touching her – Kamil had broken his jaw before executing him, as if three bullets from an extremely short distance had not been a sufficient punishment. She had shed no tears over the German. And she had never – _ever_ – even thought about that short, possessive, forced kiss. Until that moment.

So perhaps it was because of these memories Stiglitz somehow managed to bring to the surface – they were flashing through her mind in a series of blurred images – perhaps they were the reason why she finally gave in, let him deepen the kiss. And when his hands slowly slid down her shoulders to her waist grazing her breasts through the thin fabric of her dressing gown and even thinner fabric of her nightdress, well, it must have been when she lost her mind.

He had not closed his eyes for even a moment, so when she finally kissed him back – both surprised and terrified by what she was doing, she saw it. A flash of smug triumph in his eyes. And suddenly all the gentleness was gone, along with her passivity – now it was a feverish fight for dominance, the fight she was not going to lose, barely aware of her swollen lips that would probably betray her in the morning.

But he was not going to play fair; his mouth slid down to her neck, suckling and biting her skin. She stiffened for a second and he chuckled as he brushed her earlobe with his lips.

'Don't worry. I won't leave any trace,' he whispered in her ear. 'And even if I do, no one will see it in the morning.'

It sounded a little bit dark, a bit menacing, but she only moaned in response and he smoothly returned to his previous activity, tasting her skin, tracing the line of her jaw, down her neck, to her collarbone. She shut her eyes closed even before his lips got back to her longing mouth.

Her hands ran up his shoulders to the back of his neck, urging him to get even closer, which he did of course, grinning against her mouth. But when her fingers returned to his chest and she undid the top button of his shirt, he pulled away and for a moment they were staring at each other, catching their breaths.

'We're entering a dangerous path,' he said and a smirk – the smirk she hated so much – was back on his lips, now even more irritating than before. 'I'm sure you realize that'.

She said nothing, still breathing heavily, waiting for his next move.

'I'm sorry to leave in such a promising moment,' he said as she eyed him in disbelief, 'but I'm not going to let you drag me to bed on our first date.'

She still did not reply, dumbstruck, unsure if he had really said that and he smiled smugly.

'I only wanted to check my chance. Nice to see that it's quite good.'

He stepped back and she glared at him as her disbelief had finally turned into irritation.

'Goodnight, Natalia,' he smiled understandingly. 'I'll find you in the morning.'

xxxxxxxxxx

I know it's been a while… I really truly wish I had more time for writing.

I can only say that I'm very sorry for this very very very long delay. This chapter is a bit longer to make up for that.

Thank you for your great reviews – they are really inspiring and keep me think of this (and the other) story even if I don't actually have time to write.

Thanks to all of you who have been with this story for so long and especially to those who have never doubted that it will be continued one day

I will do my best to write another chapter soon – but first I must of course complete another piece of _Indifference_.

Have a nice, sunny, creative holiday, all of you!


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